


it's a color that i can't describe

by mockturtletale



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Cheek Kisses, Crying, Domestic Fluff, Extreme Thirst, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Forehead Kisses, Group dynamics, Holding Hands, Humor, Introspection, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oblivious Kim Namjoon | RM, Oral Sex, Personal Growth, Pet Names, Pining, Plants, Plushies, Romance, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Texting, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 85,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: it was an almost kiss. a hint of a kiss. a not-really-at-all kiss.and namjoon’s brain is broken, now.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM
Comments: 252
Kudos: 766





	it's a color that i can't describe

**Author's Note:**

> this is the story of how that one forehead kiss made a ruin of namjoon's whole life, but in a way that he's fully on board with. once he gets a clue. the slowest of slow burns, and the long and winding road is paved with good intentions and copious kisses. 
> 
> shoutout to onu for keeping me stocked up on the will to live, please check out [her works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onuelle/pseuds/onuelle) because she is a wonder. also an extra shoutout to her for being better at english than i am even though it's my first language and not hers. so smart and yet she's friends with me. no it doesn't make sense to me either. 
> 
> you can follow me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/hwifighting) and i have a [twit fic acc](https://twitter.com/mockturtletale) that i really need to use more, you can prompt me / shout at me on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/mockturtletale) if you'd like but please be nice because i'm just a girl. 
> 
> huuuuuge thanks to kh for the beautiful graphic for this fic, and many thanks as always to m and n for being the world's most patient, most helpful beta readers. thanks especially in this case for telling me that those 20 pages sucked, that saved this whole story and maybe the fate of the world. 
> 
> title from a [bloc party song](https://open.spotify.com/track/101DAR4Er0fTefLah4jwWS?si=hDs8ZyPDSDW8sRf1L-G0_g).

[ ](https://ibb.co/jLbyKFX)

namjoon knows he shouldn’t be at all surprised by it when jungkook decides that he’ll deliver his birthday kiss directly to namjoon’s forehead. 

it’s entirely on brand for jungkook to go so far above and beyond what has been or could be done that he winds up inventing his own method entirely. if you’d told namjoon beforehand that jungkook was going to do something completely outlandish and wholly unnecessary, namjoon wouldn’t have bat an eyelid. 

but the idea of it kind of pales in comparison to the act itself. 

namjoon feels himself physically pale when jungkook announces his plans. 

is jungkook going to walk around the couch to get to him? should namjoon stand up? can he pretend he didn’t hear? would anyone notice if he slunk out of the room right now? 

his eyes are glued to his phone as he cycles increasingly frantically through these thoughts and before he even fully has time to brace himself for it, jungkook is there, looming over him from both above and behind; one hand on namjoon’s shoulder as if to steady him, as if to say ‘hey, it’s just me.’ 

it’s a small thing, all in all. the kiss itself is lightning quick, a barely there press of soft lips that feels like nothing more than a prelude when it’s followed up by jungkook’s smile, his eyes bright and already crinkling with laughter, his joy so loud and right there, hovering just above namjoon’s face. namjoon doesn’t even realize that jungkook had drawn his hair back and held it out of his way until it’s falling back down around his forehead and jungkook is already walking away by then, borne across the room on peals of laughter that echo through the room, buoyed by the laughter of those there to witness it. 

namjoon doesn’t laugh, but he feels his face lift into a smile, his mouth responding to the sound of jungkook’s laughter and the sight of his joy like one is the bridge of a song, the other a pre-chorus of the very same song, one always meant to follow the other. 

he shakes his head a little, a tilt and twist of ‘well okay then,’ and jungkook is all the way across the room now and that’s it, that’s all there is to it. 

it’s namjoon’s birthday and his friend gave him a joking, playful kiss. 

it’s cute. 

it’s a tiny, sweet, ultimately inconsequential thing that says nothing, that changes absolutely nothing. 

so why is it all namjoon can think about? 

why is jungkook’s smiling, already blushing face the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes, the way his face drops down into namjoon’s something that makes namjoon’s heart race more when he remembers it now than it had in the moment when it actually happened? 

it doesn’t make sense. it doesn’t matter. it shouldn’t have any effect on him, because it doesn’t change anything, not for either of them, and not for anything or anyone else, either. 

it’s just a kiss. and a birthday kiss, at that. jungkook was - in some ways - obligated to give it. it’s just typical of him to have switched it up and made it something else. nothing more, just different. 

it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t mean a thing, not a single thing. 

it really doesn’t matter at all. 

it was just a kiss. barely, even. 

it was an almost kiss. a hint of a kiss. a not-really-at-all kiss. 

and namjoon’s brain is broken, now. 

well, he can’t say he didn’t see this coming, if he’s being completely honest about it. the very first time jungkook had been introduced to the rest of them - given to them, really (given to him, namjoon doesn’t even dare to think) - he’d known that for better or for worse, this kid was going to change everything. 

it’s just such a small thing, is all. 

namjoon is expecting it when jungkook gets a certain kind of considering look on his face, he’s braced for it when jungkook opens his mouth near a mic. 

this is a fucking forehead kiss, a performative joke between all of them done in front of the cameras, a sweetly mocking thing, something that sets jungkook giggling the moment it’s done. 

namjoon isn’t giggling, is the problem. 

namjoon is maybe losing his mind. 

that bodes well for the whole group, without a doubt. 

everything about this seems all well and good and fine, for sure. 

it’s a forehead kiss. and now namjoon is broken. 

cool. great. wonderful, truly! 

this is going to be just fine.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the next time namjoon thinks about it - well, no. not the next time that namjoon thinks about it, because namjoon thinks of little else, now, but the next time it comes up beyond the constant rotation of it on a never-ending loop in his brain - is during a show. 

he gets off stage after his solo and the muted roar backstage makes him feel like he’s underwater, his skin pinching and too small for his body, everything in him wound up, wound tight and jungkook is right there, is the problem. he’s right in front of namjoon, once namjoon pushes past yoongi and taehyung, once namjoon steps over seokjin, stretched out on the floor to roll out his calf muscles. after that there’s only jimin and hoseok tussling lightly, pretending to fight about something, and once namjoon has swung himself around them with one hand on the scaffolding and the other tightly gripping jimin’s elbow, it’s the simple matter of going a further ten feet or so and then jungkook is there. right there, right in front of namjoon. 

it’s a moment when namjoon is somehow completely mindless and entirely locked up inside his own head at the same time, reality just the place he currently finds himself and not mattering at all to him beyond that, because he doesn’t think twice about lacing his fingers together and putting the splay of them around jungkook’s closest shoulder, tilting him down, opening him up to namjoon so he can swoop in and press a smacking kiss to jungkook’s cheek. 

someone’s between them then, a makeup noona wielding a make-up brush like it’s just as much a part of her body as her fingers are. namjoon doesn’t think he left a mark, his chapstick is colorless today, but it doesn’t matter anyway because even after jungkook’s make-up has been touched up, he presses his fingers to his own cheek, the most significant act of defiance namjoon has seen from him in a long time. the make-up noona is still between them but when jungkook looks up from under his bangs and their eyes lock, there’s nothing and no-one in this room - in this stadium, in the world - beyond the two of them. 

it’s not as loud back here as it is onstage, but it’s still loud enough that namjoon doesn’t hear it when jungkook says “oh,” his mouth rounding out into a little circle, the pads of two of his fingers still touched up under the lovely plump of his cheek, just below his scar. 

this time, namjoon smiles first. he doesn’t particularly mean to, but he’s happy. he’s really fucking happy, so he smiles. and when he does, it’s like the sun rises on jungkook’s face; his mouth going wide with it in an instant, his cheeks bunching up. his eyes shine and even though he can’t hear it, namjoon can see his laughter. he can feel it. 

before they head back out onto the stage again, all of them together this time, namjoon feels someone come up behind him, knows without having to turn back that it’s jungkook who presses the tip of one finger into the center of namjoon’s open palm. 

later on, seokjin and namjoon both dump bottles of water over jungkook’s head and he laughs mid song, the sound packed into the space between the words he’s singing, breathless and lilting giggles slid like page markers between notes he knows by heart. the crowd roars and jimin and taehyung are laughing now, too, but namjoon’s ears echo with the laughter he hadn’t heard, that tiny throwaway moment from backstage still what he’s thinking about; where he stayed, in his thoughts. 

later, when they’re climbing into their cars, namjoon and jungkook walk together until they are between their different cars, jungkook about to go to the left and namjoon to the right. 

“see you at home, hyung,” jungkook says, and namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but never ends up getting to, because jungkook darts in to press a quick, damp kiss to namjoon’s cheek, his hair still a little wet from the shower and the smell of his shampoo all that namjoon can process, for a moment. 

by the time namjoon’s brain catches up, jungkook is disappearing into his car, just a small slice of his face visible from this angle, the line of his jaw and his swinging earrings and the dimpled side of his mouth punctuating his smile. 

namjoon climbs into his own car, so out of it that he startles when yoongi speaks. 

“are you good?” 

namjoon hadn’t even noticed he was already in the car. he wonders briefly if he’d have sat right on him, if yoongi had chosen this seat. 

“i think my brain is broken,” namjoon tells him, feeling like he’s struggling to make any kind of meaningful expression with his face, the whole thing just falling slack because his mind is racing and his heart is beating kind of fast and it’s probably just the residual adrenaline from performing, but namjoon feels like his body is maybe shutting down, has been in the slow process of doing so for a few days now. he doesn’t listen to the whispered errand thought that maybe the exact opposite of that is what’s happening to him, instead. 

“in a bad way, or in a good way?” yoongi only sounds curious, not yet concerned. he’s a very chill and patient hyung. namjoon used to think he was chill and patient, too. and then his friend kissed him on the cheek and he had a whole existential crisis. 

namjoon thinks about it, for a second. it’s ridiculously difficult to focus his thoughts. to train his brain on something that isn’t - 

“i’m not sure. i think it’s too soon to tell,” namjoon decides, because he’s definitely broken, but it doesn’t feel bad. not yet, at least. not so much that he can be sure about what this is or why it’s happening or how long it’s likely to continue. 

“cool. let me know when you know,” yoongi says and then he’s reaching into his bag for his headphones but keeping one side pushed back behind his ear, which namjoon appreciates. 

something has definitely fundamentally changed, for namjoon. in namjoon. 

all that really remains to be seen is how far this goes, and what it means. 

he can be patient and chill about this. he doesn’t panic about much anymore, certainly not about his own stuff, because nothing’s truly disastrous unless one of the others is hurt or suffering; everything else can wait. everything else can be worked through with patience, aided by time. 

there’s a season for everything, after all. or so namjoon has heard. 

this must be his season to lose his mind a little. 

yoongi’s right though; that could go any number of ways. 

last time namjoon thought he might be on the verge of a psychotic break, he was actually just so gripped by inspiration and the drive to create that he stayed up for almost a week straight and wrote enough material for two full length albums. they’re still enjoying the fruits of that particular bizarre burst of labor. 

hopefully he’ll get at least a new single out of this, if nothing else. 

hopefully. 

namjoon can be hopeful. patient and hopeful and just a little broken, but maybe only for the moment. 

maybe there’s something bigger he needs to grow into, or an old skin he has outgrown and now needs to shed. 

maybe he’s about to spontaneously grow a shell. he wouldn’t be mad at that. 

really though, all he can do is wait and see.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s hardly a secret that namjoon doesn’t exactly find skinship easy. 

like with a lot of things, he’d started out way too in his own head about the whole thing, and by the time that changed it was the one thing that seemed too difficult to get a re-do for. he’d tried starting from scratch, just to see if he could, and it had always become A Thing. something to be exclaimed over, everyone yelling and then someone coming to see him later that night or week, politely enquiring if there was anything he needed to talk about, because he’d been spotted willingly hugging someone else for no real discernible reason and this was immediately deemed a cause for concern. 

being tactile with his affection has never come naturally to namjoon, which made it hard for him to know when it was appropriate, when it wasn’t, how it was done, exactly, what precisely it communicated and how. so he’d always been doubtful about it and that came across in how he did it; his hugs awkward, his hand on someone’s shoulder lingering too long or far too brief a touch, his body tense and his face set in concentration. 

it was immediately clear to other people that he wasn’t comfortable with this, though they didn’t always know him well enough to know why, and that made it impossible for him to figure out how to let himself find his feet in it; get good at it. 

so mostly now he just doesn’t bother. 

he envies the others how easy it comes to them; how completely effortless it looks and how nice it seems, to touch and be touched without overthinking it, without worrying that you’re doing it wrong somehow. 

but it’s been too long, and probably he’s too old to completely change something so formative about himself now. 

it’s not a big deal, in the larger scheme of things. he only feels like he’s missing out sometimes and in those moments he reminds himself of how awkward it feels when he makes a concentrated effort to touch people casually. he remembers how it had made him feel when they’d all made such a big deal out of him going out of his way to be demonstrative of his affection. they hadn’t meant it meanly, they’d been genuinely delighted by it - even just seeing it; not having to be on the receiving end of it to find it wonderful. but making so much of it just reminds him how odd it is that he doesn’t do this all the time; that he can’t - because he doesn’t know how to. 

it’s entirely his issue, he knows. he also knows he could work to change it, that he’d have his therapist to help him and the rest of them to completely support him. 

but sometimes he feels like he’s already in the process of changing; like even though he’s not really concentrating on it, not actually trying at all, something important is happening nonetheless. and he wonders now if looking at it head on and confronting it directly would break some kind of spell, would shine a spotlight on something that grows and works best in the dark. 

so for now, at least, he’s content to just let it happen. 

he hugs them sometimes and knowing that they’re going to be very loudly pleased about it in advance makes it easier not to get spooked. 

it’s easy, when it’s just him and someone else - usually yoongi or hoseok, though it’s easier still with jimin, for some reason - to touch them in tiny ways, in a way they probably write off as accidental. it feels pretty big to him even so, and that’s good. 

it’s slow going, but it’s good. 

the jungkook thing should feel like an extension of - just the next logical step, just another part of the process. 

the jungkook thing doesn’t feel like it’s merely part of something else. 

the jungkook thing doesn’t feel like ‘just’ anything. 

the jungkook thing feels like something entirely distinct; incomparable to anything else, let alone knowable only as a small part of a larger whole. 

as usual, jeon jungkook has found a way to be unlike anyone or anything else; an entity wholly unto himself and that way for namjoon now too, in a brand new way, too, because he’s always been something else to namjoon, but now it feels like more, somehow. 

jungkook’s always been something else, but now he’s someone else, maybe. he is different to namjoon, though nothing about him has actually changed. 

so something has shifted for namjoon. 

and for no clearly discernible reason at all, everything feels different.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

sometimes, putting in his contacts right when he wakes up feels a lot like it comes to serve as an overarching omen for the day he’s about to get into. 

although, it could also just be that when it takes him fifteen minutes to get them both settled and then he has to start his day with at least one stinging eye and both of them likely streaming, still, that’s enough to set anyone’s day off on the wrong foot. 

today, the first contact goes in perfectly; quick as you like, easy as you please. namjoon is trying not to count his chickens before they’ve hatched, because the second one could still derail his morning or this day or his whole life, depending on how badly he fucks it up, so he takes a break to breathe and settle himself before he’s ready to tackle it. 

it’s then, that jungkook appears. 

“good morning hyung,” he mumbles, shuffling in to stand next to namjoon in front of his sink, still clearly half asleep and stopping one step behind namjoon to press a gentle but clumsy kiss to his cheek. he’s still dressed in his sleep clothes and his hair is so mussed that he has to push it back out of his face before he leans in to kiss namjoon. his eyes are half closed and he smells warm, somehow. namjoon registers all of this because these details are right there, right up against him, but it also feels like he’s seeing from somewhere very far seeming, because jungkook is blurry both in the mirror when namjoon looks at him there, and when he turns his head to the side to see him better where he stands. 

he’s gone as quickly as he appeared, there and then not and namjoon can’t figure out why looking at the reflection of him with only one contact in had made his brain feel very briefly upside down in his skull, but looking at him up close had made namjoon feel like he’d opened his eyes to find the whole world upside down, only the two of them still the right way up. 

the second contact goes in smoothly, instantly; a tiny miracle to herald this day. 

namjoon’s vision is still strangely blurred as he gets dressed and heads out, everything seeming just a little bit off somehow. 

jungkook, though, stays perfectly in focus.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it keeps happening, after that. 

jungkook does it more often than namjoon does and he kisses namjoon on the forehead, on the cheek, once - memorably - on the tip of his nose, but namjoon keeps expecting every time it happens to be the last time it does and that’s definitely not the case. 

today, jungkook bends down to kiss namjoon on the cheek in greeting right in front of everyone else and namjoon doesn’t mind that, he doesn’t think they’re doing anything wrong or weird or strange, but he can’t miss the way everyone around them seems - albeit briefly - to pause. no one says anything, which is both better than when they make a lot of noise about namjoon’s haphazard adventures in physical affection, but worse too because now there is this - only ringing silence. 

“yah, are you two a couple?” seokjin says after two solid beats and it feels like it kick starts namjoon’s heart and then drop kicks it way out into the troposphere. 

there’s a smile in seokjin’s voice and taehyung starts to laugh, everyone else joining in whether they meant to or not. even yoongi snorts, fond and amused. 

jungkook’s smile is teeny tiny, when he turns it on namjoon. it’s small and secretive, like the two of them are sharing an inside joke and namjoon doesn’t know quite what the joke is or why it’s funny, but he’s happy just to share something with jungkook. he’s pleased that whatever this is, it’s just for the two of them. 

yoongi and jungkook head out before the rest of them do, because they’ve already made a date to work on something together in yoongi’s studio.

“bye, yeobo,” jungkook calls loudly, waving hugely at namjoon as he leaves and yoongi shoves at his shoulders, shaking his head, disbelieving. 

namjoon cheeks still feel flushed four hours later.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the first time namjoon knows for sure that the others have noticed that something has changed between them is when it’s directly addressed with him. kind of. 

namjoon is sitting by himself, reading. jungkook and taehyung are playing what looks and sounds like a brutal game they must have invented themselves, because it involves a lot of hand slapping and no real discernible or definite rules, as far as namjoon can tell. yoongi is on his phone and jimin and hoseok are in the styling chairs, sharing a set of earbuds between them. 

seokjin sits delicately on the other end of the couch namjoon is on, which is his first clue that something is up. when seokjin needs to be careful about something, he doesn’t know how to not let the tone of the moment bleed into everything he does and even the way he does it. a seokjin without a care in the world would throw himself down onto the couch, right next to namjoon and maybe half on top of him, entirely unruffled. now, he’s perching awkwardly on the edge of the cushion, as far from namjoon as he can get without making it totally obvious that that’s what he’s trying to do. this tells namjoon that whatever he’s about to say, he’s not sure is his place to say. 

namjoon slides his bookmark into place. 

“so,” seokjin says, dragging the word all the way out, stretching it almost beyond recognition. namjoon kind of wants to shake him until whatever he has to say just falls out. “the jeon jungkook of it all, am i right?” 

namjoon just looks at him. he lifts an eyebrow, waiting for seokjin to get to the point. or to make one. 

seokjin visibly glitches, shaking his shoulders out and then blowing out a long, deep breath. 

“it’s just - you know he’d dive head first off a building for you, right?” 

“jungkook would dive head first off a building just because, hyung.” 

seokjin rolls his eyes and namjoon knows his attempts at deflection - poor at best - have not succeeded this time. he tries again. 

“i can’t imagine a scenario where i would ever ask him to dive off a building, though. or … do anything even potentially dangerous, really?” 

namjoon feels like some part of him knows what seokjin is getting at here, but he also feels like it’s a part of himself that he doesn’t have full access to. maybe it’s a part of himself he still needs to grow into. 

“that’s not really my concern here, namjoon-ah,” seokjin says, scooting an inch closer and turning towards namjoon, just slightly. 

namjoon doesn’t know what there is for seokjin to be concerned about at all. from somewhere deep and faraway inside him, a small voice says it doesn’t understand why _jungkook_ would be the one seokjin would have to be concerned for. 

“it’s more -” seokjin continues, pressing his lips together like he’s considering what to say next, “okay. let’s say jungkook was about to jump off a building. just theoretically. metaphorically. whatever.” namjoon thinks about this, frowning. “where are you, in this metaphor?” 

namjoon has no idea what seokjin is trying to ask him, or why. or how he thinks this is a reasonable way to get whatever answers he’s come seeking from namjoon. 

“you mean … which part of the metaphor would represent me? like am i the building, or the street jungkook is about to splatter himself across, or?” 

seokjin looks, for a second, like he might throw up. 

“fuck, no. i mean if jungkook is a person about to jump off a building and you’re also a person in that same scenario, where do you see yourself in it? are you trying to stop him, or are you on the street below calling the police, would you try to catch him, or -” 

“i’d be right next to him, obviously,” namjoon says, because he still doesn’t know what this is about, but that’s where he is, when he thinks about jungkook. “i’m beside him.” 

it would be funny, how wide seokjin’s eyes get at that, if it didn’t make namjoon wonder if he’s just said the wrong thing. if he just made a terrible mistake. 

“oh,” seokjin says, quiet and small like this is a response he hadn’t considered and isn’t prepared for. “so in a theoretical and totally unrealistic scenario where jungkook is about to leap into the void and he’s probably not going to die, but there’s no real way to tell in advance what’s actually going to happen, you’re with him, there?” 

in for a penny, in for a pound, namjoon thinks. sometimes when he can’t figure out someone’s angle, he thinks it would be easier to just give them everything in any way related to their topic and let them rifle around for the specific part they’re looking for themselves. with seokjin, namjoon can actually trust him enough to do that. with seokjin, total honesty really is an option. so namjoon chooses it. 

“yeah. what’s the alternative? to stand there and watch him go? to be left by myself, without him? no way. if jungkook jumps, i jump, hyung.” 

everything in namjoon is quiet. and so is seokjin. his face seems to be saying a lot, but it’s such a quick and complicated cycle of emotions that namjoon doesn’t catch any of it. 

“that’s - you know what? that makes me feel better. thank you, namjoon-ah. you’ve put hyung’s heart at ease. my mind is screaming some, but that’s fine, really. this is going to be fine, probably.” he nods once, decisive, and then he uncrosses his legs and stands to leave. “as you were, namjoon-ah,” are his parting words and namjoon can’t help but feel like he was just given some kind of permission that he didn’t ask for and doesn’t understand. 

even more bizarrely, it seems like a kind of permission that he finds he maybe needed. 

odd. 

very odd. 

but definitely nothing major, when you consider it against the backdrop of their every day activities, these days. 

namjoon talked to sza on facetime before he ate breakfast this morning, so not much could happen today that would be bigger or more noteworthy than that. 

when they’re lined up and ready to head out in front of the cameras, namjoon rocks forward on his toes and presses his mouth to the collar of jungkook’s shirt, his nose kissing the back of jungkook’s neck right below his hairline. 

as he stands back on his heels and taehyung starts to lead them out of the room, namjoon finds himself wishing he’d been brave enough to press his lips to jungkook’s skin, instead.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it seems to namjoon like jungkook is all of a sudden always next to him during their breaks, at meal times. it feels like every time he turns around and they’re not contractually obligated to be somewhere that isn’t right next to one another, that’s exactly where they are. 

maybe namjoon is just imagining things. 

maybe the problem is that every time namjoon closes his eyes or stares off into space or lets his thoughts in any way wander, he keeps imagining things. jungkook related things. maybe namjoon has started to straight up hallucinate. 

maybe at least part of the problem is that when namjoon finds himself with nowhere else he absolutely needs to be, he seeks jungkook out like there’s some kind of homing device hidden in him.

“you’ve, um -” namjoon gestures with the point of his samgak-gimbap, feeling vaguely lightheaded for no rational reason at all, “you’ve got something on your -” 

there’s a tiny shred of seaweed that’s been clinging stubbornly to the corner of jungkook’s mouth for what feels like days now and in an effort to cut off the ‘same. same. same. same’ chant that’s been on a loop in his head, namjoon decides to do something about it and tell jungkook. 

jungkook decides that what he’ll do about it is jut his chin up and out at namjoon and then hold still, waiting expectantly. 

namjoon wishes he’d suggested they had ramen for lunch, instead. 

even as he’s reaching out, praying that his hand doesn’t tremble, jungkook’s mouth is starting to lift into a smile. 

“thanks, hyung,” jungkook says, both of his eyes dipping closed when he tries - and fails, as usual - to wink. 

namjoon nods, and doesn’t ask why jungkook hasn’t called him ‘yeobo’ yet today.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

that night, namjoon comes to deliver jungkook’s goodnight kiss when he’s getting ready for bed. he’s shutting off his computer when namjoon comes in, knocking lightly at the door frame as jungkook stands up from his desk and stretches his arms up over his head, already dressed in his night clothes. 

instead of dropping his arms back down by his sides, he lets them fall around namjoon’s neck. because namjoon crosses his bedroom floor and walks all the way up to him, walks right into his arms. maybe the whole sum of the reason why it seems to namjoon like he and jungkook are glued to one another lately is because he keeps letting his feet try to make that happen. 

jungkook tilts his face for his kiss before namjoon can say or do anything else, and so all namjoon can do is press his mouth to jungkook’s cheek and do his best not to lose his mind completely. 

when namjoon’s lips lift away, jungkook sighs; a soft, small thing that he breathes out as he leans in to rest his head on namjoon’s shoulder. with his heart hammering roughly 220 bpm, it feels like, namjoon puts his hands on jungkook’s hips and listens, mildly terrified, when his heartbeat gets remixed into an edm version of whatever it was doing before he decided to touch jungkook like this - why did he decide to touch jungkook like this? he’s probably going to die now, but maybe that’s okay. if the alternative is to have not touched jungkook like this, namjoon would like to be able to say he’d have acted differently, with the knowledge of his impending death in hand, but namjoon tries not to tell lies, especially to himself. 

jungkook sighs again, a deeper and lower thing and namjoon thinks the afterlife is actually pretty lovely, now that he’s here. he’s not going to mind an eternity of this, not at all. 

“goodnight, hyung. sleep well. love you,” jungkook says, quiet to begin with and then muffled even further by the material of namjoon’s shirt and he sways in place, a little, his weight lifting from namjoon for a split second and then returning, heavier for a beat, their bodies pressed together in something like a hug that decided to make itself happen, before he steps back and away. 

namjoon doesn’t remember walking back to the doorway of jungkook’s bedroom. 

“sweet dreams, chagiya,” he says before he closes the door and walks away and he thinks about the way jungkook smiles at that for a long time, afterwards.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

they’ve been dancing for hours. days, maybe. they were born right here in this dance studio and they’ll breath their last breaths here, too. they’ve been dancing for as long as namjoon can remember. they’ve been dancing since the beginning of time itself. 

“okay, let’s take a break. forty minutes. your food is on the way.” 

namjoon is born all over again. this time around, he won’t make the mistake of becoming an idol. he’ll stay a starving, scrappy underground rapper. unless jungkook shows up again and wants him to do something else. 

he takes a second to shake out his limbs, to just let his body do whatever the fuck it wants instead of exactly and only what it’s told to, for a moment. 

by the time he walks over to the edge of the room, taehyung and jimin are engaged in a full on wrestling match in the middle of the floor with yoongi standing over them and between them, poking his toes into their most sore and ticklish spots under the guise of ‘refereeing.’ 

“where the fuck do they get the energy?” namjoon wonders outloud, not really meaning for anyone else to hear, but zeroing in on it immediately when jungkook giggles. he lifts his head and there jungkook is, splayed out in one of the office chairs taehyung dragged in here to race seokjin on. namjoon blinks at the spread of jungkook’s thighs, and then for the first time today he finds himself truly and completely breathless, because when namjoon steps up next to him, jungkook reaches out and wraps an arm high up around namjoon’s thigh, hugging in against him and resting his head at namjoon’s hip. 

by the time namjoon gets his breath back, he finds that his hand is in jungkook’s hair and he decides he really does not want to look at any possible connection or correlation between these two events. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until hoseok walks over, stretching his arms behind his back at an angle and to a degree that looks incredibly painful. 

“we’ve been working for twenty hours straight. i can’t remember what it feels like to not be vertical. what the fuck do you both have to be so happy about?” 

if he’s looking for any actual answers, he’s really come to the wrong place, because jungkook just grins up at him from where he’s wrapped mostly around namjoon, and namjoon doesn’t know what his face is doing precisely, but he knows it’s nothing legible, because his thoughts and feelings seem to have been set to a language he doesn’t speak. 

eventually the rest of them wander over too, taehyung crawling because he says his legs don’t work anymore and yoongi mostly dragging jimin. seokjin strides over, legs looking impossibly long in the jeans he’s wearing today and namjoon wonders why on earth jungkook would choose his shabby looking thighs to cling to. he’s wearing a pair of shorts he’s pretty sure he got for free with a pair of flip flops he bought at the market near his house back home. they’re ancient and worn threadbare and he’d put them on because they were comfortable, but he’s mortified by his choices now. all of them, honestly. 

“it’s a pity you’re both huge,” seokjin says, looking namjoon up and down speculatively. namjoon doesn’t notice when jungkook’s grip on him goes momentarily tight, his fingers digging into the muscle of namjoon’s thigh. “otherwise, one of you could just carry the other one around in a podaegi. would either of you consider crushing on - say - yoongi, instead?” 

several people speak at once. 

“oh fuck you, hyung,” yoongi says, approaching seokjin with a menacing look on his face and his toes of death already wriggling in anticipation of the pain he’s about to let them inflict. 

“um, neither of us is crushing on anyone?” namjoon says, and he’s oddly relieved when absolutely no one hears him and presses him to further elucidate on his claim. 

“hey, i could totally carry namjoon hyung - look. watch this -” jungkook says, and then namjoon is airborne. 

even after jungkook puts him back on his feet, namjoon feels like some integral and vital part of him stays floating six inches higher than it had previously been. 

on their way home, hoseok reveals that jungkook has changed namjoon’s contact name in his phone to ‘yeobo.’ hoseok, for his part, seems nothing but delighted by this. 

when namjoon tries to fall asleep that night, he still feels like he is outside of his own body, like either he’s floating or everything else is, because nothing is where it used to be for him, everything feels different and off in that way that is starting to become familiar, by now. 

jungkook comes to kiss him goodnight, and it’s the weight of his hand on namjoon’s shoulder when he leans down and the touch of his lips to the hinge of namjoon’s jaw that tethers namjoon to his bed, that anchors him in sleep at last. 

namjoon doesn’t feel like he’s broken anymore. not really. 

if anything, it’s literally everything and everyone beyond namjoon that seems fragmented, now. 

only jungkook is solid, all the places and times where they touch starting to feel like namjoon’s only real grasp of reality. 

jungkook, as always, is namjoon’s constant.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

“so are you going to wear the red hanbok? or will jungkook? both of you?” is all jimin says about it, and he guffaws when namjoon’s only response is to tell him to shut up. 

it’s a stupid question. it’s so incredibly stupid to even wonder about it, let alone to ask. 

if namjoon was getting married, he’d wear purple. 

if namjoon got to marry someone, some person who was maybe jungkook’s height, maybe pretty close to jungkook’s measurements, maybe just jungkook himself, because that seems like the simplest and most logical course of action in this purely hypothetical scenario, then jungkook could maybe wear purple too. 

“oh my god, you’re actually thinking about it, aren’t you?” jimin asks, his fist already lifted to his mouth to catch his laugh and namjoon doesn’t feel guilty about it when he tries to shove jimin’s fist into jimin’s own mouth. 

he does feel vaguely like he’s swallowed a rock for the rest of that day, though.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon starts to wonder if things are also upside down for people besides him, when - for the first time - jungkook pauses before he kisses namjoon. 

the longer this goes on, the less nerve-wracking it is. for namjoon, that is. 

but maybe it’s completely different for jungkook and namjoon just hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought to wonder. 

they’re all going their separate ways after a meeting at the company, namjoon thinking vaguely about heading out for a bike ride or maybe going for a walk in the forest, but taehyung and jungkook are the first to head out because taehyung wanted to buy a new headset and jungkook insisted on going with him once he’d heard that was where he was going. 

“aren’t you going to kiss your rapmon-hyung goodbye?” taehyung asks, wrapping his scarf around his neck and looking between jungkook - where he’s standing, waiting in the doorway, already ready to go - and namjoon, still gathering up his stuff at the table. 

jungkook looks immediately to namjoon, something bright in his eyes, but whatever it was, it disappears as jungkook looks around the room, the light in his eyes dimming as they pass over taehyung and jimin and yoongi and hoseok and seokjin, managers and staff spread out between and around them. 

when jungkook crosses the room to get to namjoon, his every step rings out against the silence that cushions the sound of it, the stomp of his boots loud and determined. 

this kiss is hard. it’s still just a peck, but it lands firmly, square in the center of namjoon’s forehead, and namjoon feels kind of like he just got finger-flicked in the head, except with jungkook’s mouth, instead. 

this time, jungkook is frowning slightly when he pulls away, something halfway between a pout of concentration and the pensive purse his mouth dips into when he’s thinking. 

no one says anything at all. seokjin and yoongi look at jungkook and namjoon respectively and contemplatively, but even after jungkook catches taehyung by the elbow and pulls him away - both of them calling their goodbyes over their shoulder - no one says a thing. 

and it’s not like namjoon expects someone else to speak up and give him answers to a question he hasn’t asked, to questions he hasn’t even thought to know he should ask, yet, but he’s still disappointed when everyone and everything just moves on as normal, no illuminating words or meaningful looks immediately forthcoming.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

not even a bike ride through hangang _and_ a long walk through seoul forest make things any clearer to namjoon. 

he sits in the shade of the biggest tree he can find; a favourite of his because it makes him feel so much smaller and less consequential in comparison, and watches the way the wind makes the shadows of the tree’s leaves dance on the ground in front of him. he sits like that for a long time, thinking about how the rhythms of movement in the shadows move like tides, look like streams of people, like waves of motion that ebb and flow against one another, meeting and overflowing into one another, always moving, always changing; the rhythm a constant but never affecting the same part of the picture before him the same way. the parts that make up the swath of movement cycle through a whole range of motions, working at different speeds at the same time and always one piece of the larger puzzle as it’s put together to make a whole but no two parts identical, or taking the exact same path. 

hoping that that’s a thought with a purpose that’ll become clearer in its relevance at some later date, namjoon gets up and heads home. 

it’s cold in their apartment when he steps inside, so he adjusts the thermostat once he has his shoes and coat put away. he potters around in the kitchen for a while, heating up some leftovers from the dinner they’d ordered in last night and sitting at the table to eat it, too impatient to wait for it to cool down some so it steams up his glasses when he digs in. 

hoseok walks by right then, the bright colors he’s wearing garish enough that namjoon knows it’s him immediately, even with his glasses all fogged up, half blind. as his lenses gradually clear, he notices a cable wrapped around hoseok’s hand, one of yoongi’s judging by the neatly labelled and color coded tag. 

“you,” hoseok says, pausing to point at namjoon with his free hand and then setting off on his way again. “stay right there. don’t go anywhere.” 

namjoon just shrugs and keeps eating, figuring that whatever hoseok needs him for will become apparent when he materialises again. 

and when hoseok reappears a moment later, it’s minus the cable but with a box in his hands, instead. 

“this came for you while you were out, hyung signed for it for you.” 

he means yoongi hyung, because yoongi is usually at the front door by the time the delivery person takes their finger off the doorbell. he orders the most stuff and he’s definitely the most excited for and enthusiastic about deliveries because they’re usually new recording equipment, so he pretty naturally ends up handling most of the packages that they order here to the apartment. if they’re expecting things and they know yoongi had been at home at all that day, they head straight to his room to ask after their deliveries when they get back from their schedules. 

for yoongi’s part, it doesn’t seem like he minds at all. he’d been the one to suggest that they share a group spreadsheet where they can slot in expected delivery dates and times for everything they order and he doesn’t even complain when hoseok sunnily announces that yoongi has signed for sex toys again today. 

“what did you order?” hoseok asks, leaning across the table to deliver the box into namjoon’s waiting hands and stealing from his plate on the pass back. “anything cool? or just your usual lame nerd shit?” 

he stands with his hands on his hips, peering dismissively at the package in namjoon’s hands like he already knows the answer. 

“it’s tea, i’m pretty sure,” namjoon says, because he can’t remember ordering anything else lately, but his tea wasn’t due to be delivered for another two days. he’s having a suspiciously solid run of good luck, these days. he doesn’t let himself wonder if that means everything is going to go terribly, horribly wrong sometime very soon, to re-balance the universe. 

“ahhh,” hoseok says, both eyebrows lifting on his forehead in a kind of very specific understanding that namjoon doesn’t understand even a little bit. “i see,” he says, emphasising the words like they’re having some kind of coded conversation that he must have forgotten to give namjoon the key to, because namjoon has no idea what’s being communicated beyond what hoseok is saying, or even by the actual words that he is saying. he has no clue what it is, exactly, that hoseok sees. other than tea. 

“okay,” he says easily, “ … cool.” 

“is it namjoon-ah? is it cool?” again, hoseok’s eyebrows are trying to tell namjoon something and namjoon only speaks korean and english, he hasn’t had the time to take any classes in eyebrow yet. 

namjoon frowns at hoseok, his eyebrows dipping together low on his forehead in what he hopes is the correct form to communicate ‘i have no fucking clue what we’re talking about right now.’ 

“i’m not currently aware of anything that’s not cool in any significant way, hope-ah. are you?” 

hoseok’s eyebrows lift briefly on his face and then wriggle for a second, a wave of motion that bunches his whole forehead up into a ripple of little golden waves. it’s strangely hypnotic. 

“so you’re not worried? not stressed out about anything in particular? there’s nothing you need to talk about?” 

namjoon thinks about that. 

“i’m stressed about work stuff, but i’m always stressed about work stuff, you know how ambitious i am. aside from that, i’m good. nothing else is going on that we’d need to talk about, right?” the longer they’re together as a group, the less they have to work through things that way, because once they sit down together and figure out a better way they could have handled something, it’s much easier to put that into practice the next time anything similar crops up between them. they could probably write a how-to guide on interpersonal relationships, if this music thing ever starts to get boring. 

“so there’s nothing happening right now that you’re concerned by? apprehensive about? maybe even a little scared of, although not necessarily in a bad way?” hoseok is leaning forward now, his hands planted on the table so he can peer right down into namjoon’s face. namjoon wonders how his eyebrows could best portray ‘pure and absolute confusion.’ he lets them lift a little and hopes that will do. 

“i’m not experiencing any of those emotions currently, no. am i supposed to be?” namjoon wonders if there’s something hoseok isn’t telling him. if there’s something that someone else isn’t telling him, maybe. that’s not exactly unheard of, especially not with yoongi and seokjin always doing their best to pre-manage potential problems before they ever have to reach namjoon’s sphere of awareness. sometimes it doesn’t quite work out that way and they have to bring things to namjoon only half untangled, but even that’s a head start that he greatly appreciates and the whole group benefits from. 

“absolutely not,” hoseok says, shaking his head vehemently. “whatever you’re feeling is exactly right, i’m just checking in. you know we’re all here for you, right? that even if you don’t need us right now, we’ll still be here if that changes?” he’s also so supportive of namjoon - of all of them - and the way he chooses to do it is always sweet and thoughtful and reassuring. namjoon would never think twice about asking hoseok for help and he’s sure he’d feel the same way even if they weren’t same-age friends. 

“i think i’d even wake you up, if i really need to talk to someone about something,” namjoon tells him, feeling oddly emotional about it, because it’s true and it’s a big deal. sleeping idols should be considered to be in a sacred state, untouchable to the lowly goings on of earthly matters. 

and so - appropriately - hoseok looks both shocked and touched. 

“it reassures me to hear that, namjoon-ah. i want you to always feel that way, okay?” 

“i’ll do my best,” namjoon tells him, and hoseok knows enough about namjoon’s work ethic to seem satisfied with that. 

“army are right, you really should be the president of the world.” hoseok is grinning again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“i don’t think so, and that’s also really not how it works at all,” namjoon says, thinking about global politics so he doesn’t blush like a fool. he’s never really gotten great at accepting compliments, especially not from the other members, because he knows them and he knows how much they mean it when they talk about his strengths and talents. it’s hard sometimes, to reconcile his own idea of who and how he is with how they seem to see him. it’s getting easier, with less distance to close every time he tries, but it’s still not easy. yet. namjoon is a work in progress in a lot of different ways at once. but all of them are. everyone should be, namjoon thinks, if they let themselves see the endless opportunities to grow and change that every day brings. 

“oh whatever, you know what i mean,” hoseok says, reaching across the table to touch namjoon’s hair - something that namjoon doesn’t even think about shying away from - and then stretching his arms up over his head, something in his spine re-settling with a satisfying sounding ‘pop’ when he twists. “enjoy your little nerd date, you beautiful weirdo.” 

before namjoon can ask what he means - because namjoon has finally reached his threshold for partaking in conversations that he doesn’t understand for today and now needs answers - hoseok disappears again, leaving namjoon alone in silence and a lingering air of confusion. 

it’s easy enough to disperse though. he pulls up a playlist on his phone and dances both joyfully and badly to it as he cleans up after his meal. once he’s put away his dishes and wiped down the table, he heads out, his box under his arm. 

he shoots yoongi a ‘thank you’ text as he’s walking, and the timing works out perfectly so that just as he’s locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket, he arrives at jungkook’s bedroom door. 

namjoon lifts his hand to knock, listening to the clack of the keyboard that he can hear from behind the door. and then he drops his hand back down by his side, turns on his heel, and walks away in the exact same direction he just came from.

o o o 

it’s stupidly difficult to make himself look better without also making it clear that he tried to do so, namjoon decides. 

his hair has been stuffed up under a cap for most of the day, but he knows it’ll be obvious that something is up if he washes it and drys it again now, when they’ve got an appointment at the styling salon first thing tomorrow morning. yoongi will take one whiff of his shampoo and then namjoon will have to watch his eyes roll back up into his head while his brain races through all the possible reasons for namjoon’s unusual effort at the speed of light itself. that would just be gross, honestly, and namjoon isn’t even making an effort. not for any particular reason. he just thinks he looks kind of grubby after being out in nature all day and that mostly wouldn’t bother him, but other people in this apartment are kind of sensitive to smells and probably everyone likes looking at neat and tidy, maybe somewhat cute things, so namjoon just wants to smell good and look hot out of nothing beyond basic respect and consideration for his housemates. that’s reasonable. that’s not a special effort, that’s just manners. 

but it would also be incredibly suspicious if it was a course of action he took now, today, many years after they all started living together, so after fretting in front of his mirror for fifteen minutes, namjoon pushes his hair back out of his face and throws a cap on backwards to hold it there - purely for reasons of ease and convenience, not in case someone wants to kiss him on the cheek or forehead and can’t because the brim of his hat is in their way - and then he strips off his sweater - because there could be leaf debris on it, that’s all - and washes his suddenly sweaty palms with his nicest smelling soap before he heads out again, almost forgetting his box of tea. he’d opened it just to double check and it’s definitely his usual order - oolong and rooibos - with a new blend of white tea plus a black tea with bergamot that had sounded interesting enough to prompt him to try them, and a linden tea he’d picked out on a total whim. that whim being him remembering that jungkook had said he liked the smell of it, once. he hasn’t gone through them yet, not properly, because he’s kind of got a routine for how he does and that’s what he’s setting out for, now. 

he catches sight of himself in the hallway mirror as he passes by it and he wonders, for a second, if the combination of his tank top, sweatpants and backwards snapback make him look too much like an american frat boy. he doesn’t know for sure that that’s not something jungkook is into, though, so he shrugs and continues on his way. he pauses in front of jungkook’s bedroom door for the second time in thirty minutes, taking a deep breath in and remembering to check that his breath smells okay. just because. 

he knocks lightly, not wanting to disturb jungkook if he’s gaming or working, but barely a beat passes before the door is being wrenched open. 

“hyung?” jungkook looks at namjoon in mild confusion but not unapparent delight. his eyes fall to somewhere just above the box that namjoon is holding against his chest and then lift back up to namjoon’s face, going higher still with his eyes widening then, his confusion looking for a second almost like panic. “what the - um. did you need something?” 

“not really. i just - my tea order came early,” namjoon lifts the box he’s holding in his crossed arms to illustrate this and when jungkook’s gaze drops to it, held between namjoon’s forearms, he goes very briefly cross-eyed. namjoon kind of feels bad for interrupting him, but if gaming all day is going to mess with his vision, maybe namjoon is saving him from himself. “and well … ” 

“oh!” jungkook says, stepping back out of the way and basically throwing the door open to usher namjoon inside. “you know i love the smell of this stuff, this is cool. thanks for thinking of me, hyung.” 

“of course,” namjoon says, crossing the floor to jungkook’s bed and sitting down on the side of it, tucking one leg up underneath himself to get comfortable. “it’s nothing,” he says, because what’s the alternative - for him to not think about jungkook? great, give him a couple of years to design and build a time machine and he’ll just head back fourteen years or so and devote his life to something that means he never gets to meet jungkook. that should ensure that he won’t think about jungkook, but literally nothing else would or could. 

jungkook throws himself down next to namjoon, lying back with his weight on his elbows and instantly making grabby hands at the box. 

“what great smelling magic have you got for me today, hyung?” 

namjoon grins, and starts to unpack their order.

o o o 

jungkook is still effusively thanking namjoon for the tea he’d bought him when namjoon stands up to leave again. he’s got the little box hugged to his chest like it’s something somehow precious and namjoon grabs for the larger box that contains the rest of his order with an absent-minded hand, grasping it by one flap of its lid and holding it like that, because it’s just a box now that the secrets of its first scents have been spilled out into jungkook’s room and shared between them. 

“it’s only tea, it’s not a big deal at all,” namjoon is saying and he’s trying not to blush again, but it’s harder now, it’s always harder with jungkook, and it becomes a lost cause when jungkook drops the tea onto the covers of his bed and reaches for namjoon’s face with both of his beautiful, careful, gentle hands. 

“thank you, hyung,” jungkook says for the fourth or fifth time, but this time it’s quiet. this time it sounds like he’s thanking namjoon for something else. he leans in to press his mouth to namjoon’s cheek and that should be a simple thing, something they’re both used to now though namjoon still can’t believe that’s ever a place he managed to reach, and with jungkook too. it’s crazy to him, that this is jungkook that’s about to kiss him on the cheek, that this is just something they do now and namjoon can’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t. 

except. 

except for how - 

“wait, don’t,” he says, and jungkook’s hands fall away from his face like he’s been burned. “no, i didn’t mean -” namjoon didn’t mean to startle him, or make him think that namjoon doesn’t want him to touch him, doesn’t want him to kiss him, because that’s not even close to the problem, actually it’s the exact opposite, it’s that namjoon can’t stop thinking about - “this afternoon. earlier, when you and taehyung were leaving.” 

as soon as he says it, jungkook’s face darkens. namjoon’s stomach tightens and twists into knots. 

“i just wanted to check -” namjoon says, knowing that he’s about to ruin this for himself, but determined to do it anyway. “i just wanted to say …” he doesn’t know how to say what he has to say. he doesn’t want to tell jungkook not to kiss him unless he means it, because he’s still not completely sure that not having it all is better. he knows it’s the right thing, he knows that without a doubt, but he still doesn’t know that he can handle it. “this whole - the uh. kissing thing, i guess.” 

jungkook’s face sours even further. his frown sweeps over inch of his face, pulls his shoulders in and down, curls his hands up into fists. namjoon might throw up. he makes himself keep speaking, instead. 

“if you don’t want to, you shouldn’t. you know that, right? like …” his heart is pounding, but that’s preferable to the alternative, which is the way his heart is going to stop dead in his chest when jungkook looks at him in relief in a moment. “it was funny. everyone thought so. i thought so. and it’s fine, it’s sweet. it’s fun. but you really don’t have to. i never want you to feel like you have to, jungkook-ah.” 

when namjoon doesn’t say anything else, jungkook’s expression contracts for a second, his frown hardening and then slowly lifting until his face is mostly just blank, no hint of what he’s feeling now clear or legible to namjoon. 

this time when jungkook reaches out towards him, it’s with only one hand, still curled closed up into a loose fist. 

he draws the back of his knuckles gently across the line of namjoon’s cheekbone and namjoon sinks his fingernails into the palms of his own hands so he doesn’t tilt his face into jungkook’s touch. 

“so what you’re saying, hyung,” jungkook says, slow and soft, almost dazed sounding, “is that i should only kiss you if i wanted to? if i really meant it?” 

namjoon nods because he can’t speak. he looks into jungkook’s eyes because he can’t look anywhere else. 

“okay,” jungkook whispers. “okay, hyung.” 

and then his hand falls to namjoon’s neck and jungkook is holding him still, holding him down, and that’s probably the only thing that keeps namjoon from floating away when jungkook leans in and kisses him deliberately on his left cheek, and then his right. his fingers dig into namjoon’s trapeze muscle to draw him in and down and when namjoon dips his head for it, jungkook’s nose brushes against the clasp of his snapback at the same time as his lips are pressing soft and warm to his forehead. 

“i didn’t know,” jungkook says, with his hand still on the side of namjoon’s neck and his nose dragging for a second between namjoon’s eyebrows, his mouth pursed to press a kiss to the tip of namjoon’s nose, “if you were okay with me doing it in front of everyone else. in front of staff. at work. i didn’t know if you would be mad or upset or if you’d maybe let me do it but secretly hate it. i didn’t know how to ask you.” 

when he pulls away, namjoon reaches out for him without thinking, without trying to stop himself, curling his arm around jungkook’s waist and hiding his face in the crook of jungkook’s shoulder. a whole lot of tension falls out of his body, leaves him mostly slumping against jungkook, who stands up a little taller and wordlessly, effortlessly holds namjoon up. 

“i’m always okay with it. i think you could kiss me on stage and i wouldn’t be mad about it.” if it happened all the time, the company might have something to say about it. namjoon doesn’t know that for sure; it’s not like any of the managers have ever tried to wade into the middle of whatever taehyung and jimin decide to do, jungkook caught up in it with them as often as not, so namjoon can’t imagine why him and jungkook simply kissing each other on the cheek or forehead would be any different. 

but then jungkook sucks in a breath and his nose is tracing the shell of namjoon’s ear. his mouth lands a butterfly kiss to the hinge of namjoon’s jaw and before namjoon even has a chance to start to panic, jungkook’s mouth is at his neck, a kissed pressed to where his fingers had held namjoon still for him to kiss his face. 

breathless, namjoon reaches blindly for something, for anything, for whatever he can use as a lifeline in this moment, because all of a sudden the room is flooded with something namjoon doesn’t know the name of and he’s about to go under. 

“we don’t have to worry. it’s not a big deal, so it’s fine. it’s fine, right?” 

jungkook stills against him, but only for a second and then his hand is settling heavy, high on the back of namjoon’s neck, his thumb stroking over the rise of the tendon like he can physically soothe namjoon’s racing pulse. 

“it doesn’t have to be a big deal. it can be fine, hyung,” jungkook reassures him, and namjoon doesn’t want to think about how long they spend standing there, just like that, namjoon hiding his face in against jungkook’s shoulder, his eyes closed against the something that’s pressing in on them now from all sides, from above and below, against everything that namjoon isn’t ready yet to see. 

when he finally pulls away, he’s trembling. 

“it’s okay, hyung,” jungkook says, walking namjoon to the door with his hand looped loose around namjoon’s wrist and then kissing him on both cheeks all over again before namjoon steps through it. “we’re okay. we’re good.” 

namjoon doesn’t know if he knows that himself yet, so for now all he can do is trust jungkook. 

and of all the things he has tried and attempted today, that’s by the easiest one to do.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

so namjoon and jungkook kiss each other on the cheek all the time now. 

they kiss each other on the forehead and let their noses rub together in cute little eskimo kisses mostly regardless of who is around or where they are unless when they wander back into one another’s space one of the others gives them an apologetic but still warning look. 

it’s very new to namjoon, to be the one doing something that other members have to keep an eye on. it’s kind of exhilarating and namjoon doesn’t let himself feel guilty about it because they’re not doing anything wrong and the rest of the group make it crystal clear that they’re cool with it. 

“kiss him! kiss him! KISS HIM!” seokjin chants sometimes, oddly insistent and always disappointed afterwards, even when they do. namjoon doesn’t know how they’re getting forehead and cheek kisses wrong. he doesn’t know exactly what kind of theatrics seokjin is expecting from them, but he finds himself genuinely sorry to have let him down. 

beyond that, everything else progresses exactly as normal. maybe namjoon smiles more in general now. maybe he’s finding it a little easier to forget to stress out about showing physical affection to the other members. a comment or twelve may have been made about how jungkook “skips way too much lately, what the fuck jk, where are getting this energy? did your mom send you the good supplements again? share, you little brat.” 

but aside from the kissing thing, everything is back to normal. 

and as such, namjoon can’t for the life of him figure out what made taehyung think that what he’s trying to do right now was a good idea. 

“i’ll buy you a new figurine.” 

“i can buy my own figurines, taehyung-ah. i have just as much money as you do, remember?” 

“fuck,” taehyung says, with feeling, like it’s an offense against him personally that namjoon isn’t struggling financially. his face scrunches up under the force of how hard he’s thinking, visibly wracking his brain for something he can bribe namjoon with. 

it’s a waste of both time and effort. taehyung knows better than anyone else that no one has ever successfully managed to bribe namjoon. usually he ends up doing whatever they’re asking him to do anyway, but he’s against bribery on principle. it goes against his moral code. 

“i’ll get you a pet snail.” 

“and what happens when we go on tour?” 

“i’ll give you a blow job.” 

“um. respectfully and very lovingly - no thank you.” 

taehyung sighs loudly. 

“fine. i give up,” taehyung sighs again, uncrossing his legs and standing to leave. “i guess me and these brand new, hot off the presses pictures of a sleeping jungkook will just show ourselves out.” 

namjoon has only half been paying attention to taehyung this entire time, his focus split between what taehyung is saying and what he’s working on, so it takes him a second to register what taehyung has just said and he’s already almost at the door of namjoon’s studio when namjoon spins around in his chair. 

“wait!” 

taehyung’s hand reaches for the handle of the door and misses. he turns back to namjoon, astonishment loud on his face. 

“really, hyung? seriously!?” 

it’s not that namjoon isn’t also astonished himself, it’s just that he is a very weak man for sleeping jungkook. and also waking jungkook. he’s both weak and feral for performing jungkook. he’s a weepy mess for soft jungkook. he’s inconsolable because of sad jungkook. he’s incoherent in the face of long haired jungkook. just because namjoon doesn’t quite understand these things doesn’t mean he doesn’t know them. he’s not a total mystery to himself. plus some things are just plain undeniable. 

“send me the pictures and don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” 

“yes, hyungnim,” taehyung says, dipping into a quick bow and refusing to make eye contact with namjoon, for some reason, his phone already in hand.

it’s only after taehyung leaves that namjoon realizes he never actually told namjoon what he wanted in exchange for the pictures. 

he dismisses this concern immediately as he scrolls through the pictures of jungkook sleeping in the back of a car, curled up on his side with his hands tucked between his knees and his mouth open. 

he’ll do anything taehyung asks of him.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

sometimes, namjoon finds himself actually missing the dorm room they’d all shared back in the beginning. 

in the early days when being the leader was still a crushing weight of responsibility and namjoon had worried about that and also everything else almost all the time, it had put his mind at ease to wake up in the middle of the night - or more likely two hours after they’d gotten home and two hours before they had to leave again - and listen for a moment to all six of them breathing and snoring and snuffling in chaotic chorus. 

the way their sleeping arrangements had worked out had felt like a gift for namjoon directly from the rock, paper, scissors gods themselves, because they’d all been spread out around him exactly as they would have been if namjoon could have chosen all their spots himself. 

taehyung and hoseok bunked together on the far end of the room, and that worked well for namjoon because they were both the loudest in general and also the two members namjoon worried about least, personally. 

seokjin and jimin were in the middle bunks, next to namjoon, and he liked being able to turn over and check on jimin, smiling to himself in the dark at the slight whistling sound jimin’s nose would make sometimes when he was in a really deep sleep. with seokjin sleeping above jimin, namjoon liked to think about it as if seokjin was monitoring the goings on of the airspace in the room while namjoon took care of their troposphere. 

best of all, without having to even turn his head, namjoon could reassure himself that jungkook was okay last thing at night and first thing in the morning, because his single bed was at a right angle to namjoon’s bunk and he always slept facing into the middle of the room, in namjoon’s general direction. 

their bunk set up was also extremely handy for when yoongi - who slept above namjoon - would in the very beginning sometimes wake namjoon up when the bunks shook slightly under the weight of yoongi’s muffled sobs. later on, he’d learn to just rap his knuckles against the side of their bedframe so namjoon would know yoongi needed him, but in both cases namjoon was able to do the same thing - all he could think to do in those moments - and climb up into the bunk above to crawl into bed with yoongi and hold him while he cried. they’d talked about it after the first couple of times, and they talked about everything, after that. some things they could help one another with just by talking, just by listening alone. some things couldn’t be fixed with words, but could be soothed by the reassuring lock of someone you trust’s arms around you, another heartbeat you believed in pressed to your back. 

they’d all gotten very close very quickly in the early stages of this, and namjoon almost misses the hardship sometimes, if only because it meant he never had time to second guess his instincts or critique his execution of comfort. 

now, when he finds yoongi slumped over his keyboard with his head in his hands, he’s in his own studio, with a whole floor for namjoon to cross to get to him, so much space in the room that namjoon feels like he’s disturbing something when he cuts through it to make a questioning noise. 

yoongi doesn’t lift his head, only waves a vague hand towards his monitor and namjoon can tell from a single glance at the screen that the track - which is a sprawling mass, way too many elements added and cut into it, more going on than could ever work or be helpful - that it’s just a work roadblock. nothing serious, then. nothing that they don’t all encounter probably a few times a month, at least. 

but knowing that doesn’t make namjoon any more inclined to walk away and leave yoongi to it. he’d only come to drop off some coffee because he’d gone to make some for himself and knew yoongi was working here, too. he sets the cup down just out of reach so neither of them will knock it over, and then after only hesitating for a fraction of a second, he starts to comb his fingers through yoongi’s hair, pushing it to fall in soft sideways waves at the back of his head, namjoon’s fingertips tracing from behind yoongi’s ear down onto the warm skin between yoongi’s hairline and the neckline of his t-shirt. 

when yoongi hums, it’s a pleasantly broken sound; a note of gratitude cracked open on the surprise that he tries to mask. 

and then he falls silent, but turns his face slightly, just enough that namjoon can see the soft smile lifting the side of his mouth. he folds his arms under his head and settles, entirely content to let namjoon stand there and play with his hair for as long as namjoon is willing. 

when hoseok comes looking for them well over an hour later, yoongi is up and working again and namjoon’s leaning in with his weight on his left hand to look at something yoongi is pointing to on the screen, but his right hand is on the back of yoongi’s neck, his thumb brushing over the short, coarse hairs where yoongi’s undercut begins. 

yoongi has to get up to let hoseok in when he rings the bell, but as soon as he settles back into his seat he lifts namjoon’s hand back up onto his neck and goes right back to work. 

“what delicious ear treats are my soft genius boys cooking up today?” hoseok asks, already smiling, and namjoon smiles right back at him. this time, he doesn’t blush.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

jungkook🌺  
  
how likely do you think it’d be to cause a problem if i posted a gym selfie to weverse  
  


namjoon had known that jungkook was at the gym with hoseok, but he hadn’t really thought about the specifics of that. when he hears the words ‘jungkook’ and ‘gym’ in the same sentence his brain automatically switches over to a mode whereby jungkook’s existence simply ceases to be quantifiable to it once he goes beyond the threshold of their apartment. it’s for the best. it’s for namjoon’s survival, honestly. 

he knows that jungkook sometimes goes through phases of posting pictures he takes in the gym and he also knows that jungkook and twitter are on a break right now because all the weird creeps on there mildly terrify him and namjoon doesn’t blame him for that at all, he’s only thankful - for once - that jungkook isn’t fluent in english yet.

i guess it depends on what kind of problem you’re looking to cause. you’ll probably get some kind of award in the mail two months from now, but once it’s not a shirtless selfie i don’t think anything too catastrophic will happen  
  


and truthfully, namjoon should have seen this coming. he walked himself right into this one. he chased it down and then jumped up and down on it.

cool. no shirtless selfies on weverse. got it.  
  


... what am i supposed to do with all these shirtless selfies, then, though?  
  


should i send them to you?  
  


namjoon drops his phone on his face. it hurts, but he also feels instantly like he kind of deserves it. 

jungkook is joking. he’s definitely probably joking. there’s a very decent chance that he’s not being serious. but that doesn’t really help or change the fact that namjoon’s instinctual answer to that question is ‘yes, of course you should.’ because why wouldn’t he want to see shirtless selfies of jungkook? what kind of absolute idiot would say ‘no thanks’ to that? 

but there’s also this - is it incredibly sus of namjoon to ask jungkook to send him shirtless selfies of himself? because it feels like there’s a large margin between ‘possessing shirtless jungkook selfies’ and ‘soliciting shirtless jungkook selfies from jungkook himself’ and it seems to namjoon that that entire margin is packed full of nothing but potential error that’s just waiting to happen; personal disaster primed and ready to befall him.

tempting, but since the chances of me losing my phone are much higher than they would be for almost anyone else, i think i have to refuse  
  


😢  
  


jungkook doesn’t respond for a while. for so long that namjoon is almost certain that he’s crossed a line, until -

understandable. thank you for thinking of my privacy, hyung.  
  


also, sorry, i was in the shower  
  


which is great. namjoon is delighted to find himself reassured that he didn’t make things weird. 

he’s so delighted, in fact, that it kind of feels like straight up hysteria, instead. 

jungkook didn’t not message him back because namjoon was being a weirdo, he just didn’t message back because he was in the shower. presumably naked. wet, even. 

that’s fine. 

totally normal. 

probably a pretty common way for people to shower, really. 

namjoon absolutely isn’t having some kind of significant feeling heart event because of that, no way. 

nope. 

definitely not. 

not even a little bit. 

namjoon’s heart pounding in his chest like something is knocking loudly and insistent, determined to get _out_ is a total coincidence. 

it’s entirely unrelated. 

and it’s probably nothing. 

it’s definitely not something he needs to worry about. 

jungkook is namjoon’s friend and bandmate, his housemate, one of his soulmates, probably. 

he’s also super hot and kissing namjoon on the cheek all the time now, letting namjoon kiss him back. 

so what if they had almost maybe sort of started to stray into sexting territory in their kakao chat today, that probably happens all the time between friends? 

it’s perfectly normal and not anything at all to be concerned by. 

namjoon’s heartbeat settles back down eventually and when jungkook comes home with hoseok and presses a kiss to namjoon’s cheek with his hair still wet and his face still flushed from his workout, namjoon only feels somewhat like he’s actively shutting down both cognitively and also in every single other way. 

perfectly fine. totally normal. 

namjoon and jungkook are thriving. 

it seems like jungkook’s new shoulder sets are really working, which is just wonderful. 

everything’s great.

o o o 

the next morning, namjoon has a small but hugely embarrassing bruise in the very center of his forehead from where he’d dropped his phone in shock and something probably a bit more like awe at the thought of jungkook without his shirt on. 

namjoon prods at it in the mirror and then shrugs and nods at his own reflection. it is a mark of his shame, and he earned it. 

jungkook doesn’t show up for breakfast until namjoon and jimin are finishing up with their meal, but he immediately takes one look at namjoon’s forehead and starts clucking disapprovingly. he holds namjoon’s face in both his hands, his warm palms cupped up under namjoon’s jaw to tilt his face back so he can kiss his bruised forehead better. 

there’s a clatter, and namjoon wonders if he’s actually able to hear his brain break now, but it’s just jimin tossing his cutlery into the sink so he can fumble for his phone and point it at them. 

“good morning v-live, here we are in bangtan’s home first thing in the morning, where i’m reporting to you live from the scene of some shockingly soft homoerotic behavior at the ungodly hour of six am, if you can believe it. eye-witness accounts have described it as ‘the gayest thing they’ve ever seen.’ we’ll be keeping you updated on this as the day goes on and this situation inevitably gets worse - ” 

he walks out of the room without looking at or in any other way acknowledging either of them and namjoon knows that he’s just face-timing taehyung because he can hear his deep ass laugh from here, but still. rude. uncalled for. absolutely unnecessary. it’s not even true, what he said. the way he’d described it isn’t in any way - 

“well, he’s not wrong,” jungkook says, sighing, but sounding kind of content about it. 

“no,” namjoon agrees, “he’s a lot of things, but he’s not wrong.” 

which is unfortunate, if you ask namjoon, because he really, really wants to believe that he is. 

“does it hurt, hyung?” jungkook asks, frowning at namjoon’s forehead anew, now. namjoon knows that he deserves his badge of dishonour, but he’s still mad at it for making jungkook frown. 

“not at all, bun. not now that you’ve kissed it better.” 

mostly namjoon is just thankful that jimin isn’t still here to witness this part of the exchange, because he’d probably get taehyung to fashion them some kind of grammy-esque award that he’d spend hours engraving to say ‘in respect of feats of incredible homosexual affection.’ namjoon is getting a little emotional just thinking about it, so there’s no way he’d make it through their acceptance speech without crying and he doesn’t want to cry in front of jungkook because then jungkook would cry too and seeing jungkook cry makes namjoon and yoongi burst into tears immediately and this would make seokjin laugh so hard that _he’d_ cry and the whole thing would just be a mess. 

namjoon hopes jimin just mails them their award instead, because a ceremony would just be too much. 

“cool,” jungkook is almost smiling again and namjoon thinks it’s nice that he gets to see something so lovely even when his sanity is slowly but surely slipping away. 

“you hungry? do you want food?” namjoon asks and jungkook really must hold him in very high esteem after all because when he asks namjoon if he’s going to make it, he doesn’t even make it explicitly clear that he won’t be eating it, if that’s the case. “the manager hyungs dropped off some gilgeori toast, but i can put it on a plate for you and get you some water.” 

“you’re the best, hyung,” jungkook says, sitting down at the table and jamming his hands under his butt the way he does when he’s particularly excited about something. he must really like toasts. 

when namjoon puts the plate and mug in front of jungkook, he’s about to turn and go wash up and get dressed, but jungkook stops him by hooking his pinky finger around namjoon’s pinky finger and tugging lightly. 

“stay, hyung? sit with me while i eat?” he asks, and so namjoon does. 

he sits with jungkook and makes himself some tea to drink while jungkook eats, and they chat about everything that comes into their heads, about nothing at all. 

they’re sitting there, still talking over jungkook’s now empty plate when hoseok sticks his head around the door. 

“are you two finished licking each other faces or can i expect a tongue bath too if i want to grab some coffee?” 

he’s grinning, but like. still. as if namjoon would willingly put his tongue anywhere near his face, or any other part of him. he’s got standards. 

“you wish, hobi-yah,” namjoon says, grabbing jungkook’s plate and mug to bring them over to the sink. 

“for sure,” hoseok agrees, crossing the kitchen floor like every square inch of it is a villain to defeat before he makes it to his final destination: the coffee maker. “my last act on this earth will definitely be to ask you to kiss me. death by jungkook would be a beautiful way to go.” 

“as if rapmon hyung would ever kiss you, hyung,” jungkook is oddly dismissive of this part of hoseok’s statement, but namjoon wonders if anyone else in the room noticed how he didn’t say a thing about hoseok’s assertion that if namjoon kissed him, jungkook would literally murder him. 

weird morning, honestly. it feels like a lot has happened already and namjoon hasn’t even washed his face yet. 

“hyung, can i borrow your toothpaste? yours tastes nicer than mine,” jungkook asks and namjoon nods and doesn’t think much of it when jungkook follows him to his room and then into the bathroom and they brush their teeth and wash their faces standing side by side, jungkook grinning at him around one of namjoon’s spare toothbrushes and trying to splash him with water. 

later on when jimin sends a picture to the group chat that’s just a blank screen with the words ‘it got worse. smh,’ and a floating, disappointed seeming emoticon, namjoon hasn’t got a clue what he’s talking about. 

he doesn’t ask, either.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s so late that it’s looped all the way back around to early again when namjoon gets home from work. 

he’d had to spend a solid thirty minutes clearing empty coffee and ramen cups out of his studio, but even though it feels like it had taken about a week of almost living there, he’s reached a point in his writing where he feels like he can take a break without feeling guilty about it. he knows that even if the creative wave he’s been riding has completely dispersed by the next time he paddles out to write, he saw it out to the very end. he’s got the guts of something great, and that’s more than enough for right now. 

he’s pretty excited about sleeping for at least twelve hours when he lets himself in and kicks off his shoes, but before he’s even stepped into the hallway, jungkook’s head peeks out around the corner. 

when he sees namjoon, he grins and beckons him with a crooked finger. 

namjoon drags his bag to the floor, dragging it along behind him with the strap dangling from one hand, and goes to jungkook in his socked feet, sinking down onto the couch beside him without even asking why the couch is pushed right out to the very edge of the room now. 

“hi hyung,” jungkook whispers against the side of namjoon’s face, absentminded about it when he leans in to kiss namjoon on the cheek, “jin hyung is doing the hot competent adult thing again. and tae hyung is helping him, this time.” 

it takes namjoon a second to bring himself to look away from jungkook, because he’s wearing running shorts and a short sleeved shirt that actually fits him for once and also he’s very very handsome and right next to namjoon, close enough that their thighs are pressed together. 

when namjoon finally manages to tear his eyes away, he realizes exactly why the couch is pushed over here. where they sit now, they’ve got a perfect unobstructed view of the kitchen, where the contents of their fridge are lined up on the table and countertops and seokjin is on his knees in front of the open fridge with pink rubber gloves on and a spray bottle in one hand, a cloth in the other. 

taehyung is hovering behind him, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip sucked up into his mouth. 

“pass me some paper towel, taehyung-ah,” seokjin instructs, and taehyung almost trips over his own feet in his haste to get across the kitchen to reach the roll of paper towel. 

“what are you going to use this for?” he asks, looking at seokjin instead of at what seokjin is doing, almost breathless when he speaks, because none of them ever manage to remain completely unaffected in the face of seokjin’s relentless and incredibly attractive competence but taehyung seems to especially struggle with it. 

“the spray leaves streaks when it dries. so you’ve got to use that first to get rid of the food stains, but if you go over it with paper towel afterwards you get a nice clear shine.” 

taehyung visibly presses his thighs together and swallows so hard that namjoon actually hears it. 

“does this really count as helping?” namjoon whispers to jungkook, turning his face toward him but still watching taehyung and seokjin because he’s not entirely confident yet that taehyung’s not about to push seokjin down onto the floor and try to chew the fingers off of his rubber gloves. “he’s definitely going to pop a boner any minute now, how does jin hyung not notice this stuff?” 

when jungkook leans in to whisper back, namjoon turns to look at him and finds himself looking right into jungkook’s eyes, their noses about two millimetres from actually touching. jungkook’s eyes widen, but neither of them make a move to pull away. 

“the hyungs in our group are especially obtuse, i think,” jungkook says, still whispering. 

“i hadn’t realized our hyungs were quite this bad,” namjoon whispers back, and he must be bad at whispering, because jungkook laughs lowly at him when he says this. “did you offer to help too, or have you just been sitting here enjoying the free show?” 

“oh he offered,” seokjin says loudly, startling namjoon so hard that he knocks foreheads with jungkook. they both pull away to put their palms to their heads, wincing. “that’s a good one you’ve got there, namjoon-ah. don’t let him get away.” 

still holding his own forehead, namjoon leans back in to kiss jungkook’s reddened skin better. how exactly does seokjin think that jungkook would get away from him when they’re basically sitting on top of one another? 

now that the fourth wall has been broken and they’re directly addressing the source of today’s entertainment, though - 

“did taehyung offer to help too, or is he just observing?” namjoon can’t wait to hear seokjin’s take on what he thinks it is that taehyung is doing, what purpose he could possibly be serving that isn’t very obviously - almost embarrassingly so - being horny on main for seokjin. 

“oh taehyung isn’t here to do anything useful,” seokjin says brightly, his grin not dimming for a second, not when taehyung pouts at him and not when he finds a rotting and mould covered entity lurking in the back of the fridge, either. he just passes it off to taehyung, who tosses it into the trash with a flourish. “he’s just my beautiful assistant.” 

at this, taehyung preens. 

but then seokjin leans all the way back out of where he’s half climbed into the fridge to sit back on on his heels and smile warmly up at taehyung and taehyung looks instantly like he’s either about to burst into tears or maybe piss his pants. possibly both. 

“hyung,” jungkook says, urgently, “teach tae hyung how to use the scraper.” 

this sets seokjin scrambling for another of his many and fancy, completely exotic and incomprehensible to them cleaning implements and once his back is to them all, taehyung clasps his hands together at jungkook in solemn thanks. 

namjoon would laugh, but jungkook has just chosen this moment to lift his arm up around namjoon’s shoulders and pull namjoon in tight to his side, so namjoon settles for not screaming out loud, instead. 

“i wish we had snacks,” jungkook says and without saying a word or moving an inch more than is absolutely necessary, namjoon reaches down into the bag at his feet and pulls out a packet of banana kicks he’d picked up for jungkook at the convenience store yesterday. 

“don’t tell the others,” jungkook says, with his nose in namjoon’s hair and his mouth warm at namjoon’s ear, “but you’re my favourite.” 

to disguise his shiver, namjoon slumps further into jungkook’s side. 

he opens his mouth obediently when jungkook lifts a chip to his lips and he doesn’t think about licking at jungkook’s fingers. 

they sit together like that for a long time, neither of them making a move to get up even when seokjin has sorted everything carefully back into the fridge and taehyung has lead them all in a rousing and hard-earned round of applause. 

namjoon is exhausted and he starts to feel himself drift off a couple times, but he bites at the inside of his cheek until the sting wakes him up again, because even though jungkook is just telling him about his day and a movie he’d watched and the book he’s reading right now and an interesting article he’d found online the other day, this is by far the highlight of his day. 

“okay, it’s definitely bed time for you, hyung,” jungkook says eventually, and namjoon is both relieved and then instantly mad at himself for needing to sleep when the alternative is spending more time with jungkook. “up, up you get,” jungkook lifts namjoon’s arms over his shoulders and grabs for the handle of namjoon’s bag. 

namjoon doesn’t remember most of the process of him actually getting to his room, but he’s as awake as he’s ever been in his life when jungkook makes him sit on the edge of his bed so he can strip namjoon’s sweater and then his t-shirt up over his head. he seems to take a long time to pick a clean shirt out of namjoon’s closet, so while he’s gone namjoon preemptively saves his own life by changing into his sleep shorts. he’s pulling the covers back and about to climb under for his protection when jungkook comes back with one of namjoon’s plain grey oversized shirts twisted between his hands. he seems to realize what he’s doing when he sees namjoon, and looks urgently down at where he’s mangling the material. he smooths it back out repeatedly, way more than is actually necessary or effective. 

“let’s brush your teeth and wash your face before we put this on, hyung,” jungkook says and namjoon wonders why he sounds nervous about that. 

once they’re standing side by side in front of namjoon’s sink, jungkook seems to realize that he really can’t expect namjoon to do more than simply stay upright on his feet at this point. 

“open up,” he says, and namjoon lets him brush his teeth with his eyes already slipping shut again. 

it’s not the first or even the fifth time someone else has brushed namjoon’s teeth for him, but it’s the most gentle anyone has ever been with him about it. the fact that that coincides with this being the first time namjoon can ever remember jungkook doing this for him isn’t in fact a coincidence at all. 

“thanks, ‘guk,” he mumbles when he’s rinsed his mouth and jungkook is carefully wiping his face with cleansing oil on a cotton pad. 

“what are husbands for?” jungkook asks, his voice seeming distant. when namjoon cracks an eyelid open to peek at him, he’s pouting in concentration. it’s adorable, as usual, but it’s also probably the closest namjoon’s ever experienced it, and they’re alone, standing together in the warm light of namjoon’s bathroom, and he’s tired and he’s not thinking straight so it’s something else, something entirely _other_ too, and namjoon can’t help it, he can’t stop himself. 

he’s already mostly asleep, swaying on his feet, and it’s too easy to let his body and gravity team up against him and tip him forward. 

he thinks - he thinks - he thinks. he thinks about it for days afterwards and nothing makes him sure, nothing happens to make him certain, but he thinks he kisses jungkook, then. 

the next thing he knows for sure, he’s waking up and it’s the next day and when he’s stretching his arms up to knock against his headboard, it’s like a bell starts ringing in his head. all he can picture or think of or in any way envision right then is the soft press of his mouth to jungkook’s mouth. his lips on jungkook’s lips. him, kissing jungkook’s soft little pout. 

he lies in bed for forever, for far too long, and still all definite answers elude him. 

did he kiss jungkook? did he really? 

because the more he thinks about it, the more it feels like a dream. 

the harder he thinks about it, the more it feels like it could only ever have been something that happened in namjoon’s dreams. 

jungkook kisses him good morning when he sees him, his smiling mouth pressed instantly and easily to namjoon’s forehead and namjoon smiles back at him, relieved and not at all disappointed.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

time passes and nothing gets any clearer. 

things don’t feel uncertain in a way that’s greatly unsettling or in any way upsetting to namjoon, but he’s never been as comfortable in chaos as some of the others are. 

although he’s not actively seeking answers, he’s not going to pass the opportunity for some up, either, so he pauses outside their waiting room when he overhears hoseok say his name as he approaches it. 

“ … nothing wrong with it, i just thought someone should remind you before you lose the run of yourself. again. that’s our leader, not your baby.” 

namjoon can barely breathe in the pause that follows. he presses himself against the wall, his chest tight. the seams of the stage outfit he’s wearing seem to pull taut, strangling him, and he feels abruptly like he’s being leashed by their jobs; tied down and held back and put in place by the reality of their lives. he should feel relieved at the reminder of who they are and how this has to go, he thinks. he doesn’t. 

“and all i’m saying, hyung,” jungkook responds after a moment, his voice seeming to shake, probably because it’s incredibly rare for him to disagree with any of them to any serious degree. he sounds shaken up, like his voice is thick with some kind of emotion that namjoon’s not instantly sure of. fear, maybe. anger? that doesn’t seem likely, with jungkook. “is that i really don’t see why rapmon hyung can’t be our leader _and_ my baby.” 

another silence cushions that declaration - because it is a declaration and there can be no doubt about that - and once someone starts to speak again, not jungkook this time and not hoseok either, namjoon walks swiftly and as quietly as he can away. away from them, away from the conversation. away from jungkook. 

he finds himself in a stairwell, alone and the opposite of breathless, his chest light and his lungs feeling huge, a balloon inside his chest that’s swelling up out of him, a pressure that’s the opposite of unpleasant, too much but somehow just enough. 

namjoon sits there by himself, feeling not even a little bit alone, for a long time, and he thinks of leaves. he curls his fingers down around the hard, cool concrete edge of the step he’s sitting on and he thinks of leaves in the wind, of waves in an ocean, of bits and pieces and parts of things and how they drift apart. how they sometimes, in small but very important ways, come together. 

seokjin comes looking for him eventually and namjoon lets himself be lead back to the waiting room, back into the midst of them all. 

jungkook’s smile is small, but he reaches a hand out for namjoon instantly, and tugs until he has namjoon by his side. 

looking at the floor instead of at jungkook or anyone else, namjoon tries not to think about anything at all. 

when jungkook doesn’t drop his hand, tangles their fingers together instead, namjoon lets him. 

looking at no one and thinking determinedly of nothing, namjoon holds on tight.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

“so do you want to call him? or will i?” 

truth be told, namjoon hadn’t really been listening to whatever seokjin had said before, so he doesn’t know what he’s talking about now. he thinks about it as he reaches to switch off the lights, wracking his brain as he locks the studio door behind them, but nothing comes to him. 

“uhhh …” 

seokjin just shakes his head and punches namjoon lightly in the shoulder. 

“sorry, hyung should have remembered you need a minute to adjust when you come back from the matrix,” the fond lift of his mouth disappears from view as he hooks his mask into place. “i said that yoongi and hoseok are going to meet us there with some of the manager hyungs. taehyung has other plans and jimin’s sleeping already, but jungkook’s been at home all day, so he probably just split his time between getting swole and letting teenage gamers swear at him and totally forgot to feed himself. do you wanna call him?” 

“oh,” namjoon says. 

of course namjoon wants to call him, but why is seokjin asking if namjoon wants to be the one to call jungkook? is it weird if he wants to? would it be weird if he didn’t? what would a namjoon who wasn’t kissing and being kissed by jungkook but only ever totally platonically have done? are he and that namjoon totally different people, now? is the namjoon of the past dead? probably many previous versions of namjoon are gone now, and that’s good, he thinks. staying the same means not growing, never making any real progress. he doesn’t want who he has been to limit who he can become. he never wants to feel like his potential to be more, to learn more - to change and keep on changing - gets capped. that would be like a kind of invisible prison, he thinks. that would - 

“okay, that’s enough existential spiralling for today, joon-ah,” seokjin steps in to save him and hooks his arm around namjoon’s while he’s there. “i’ll call the pretty boy, you just focus on walking. one foot in front of the other, remember?” 

namjoon scowls and seokjin’s mirth makes his eyes shine as he lifts his phone to his ear. 

it’s a short conversation, two clipped sentences that namjoon doesn’t try to listen in on - seokjin asking if jungkook wants to come grab food, jungkook replying something that namjoon can’t hear. 

“he’s not coming,” seokjin announces, slipping his phone back into his pocket, and namjoon just nods, careful to keep his face neutral. 

that’s fine. it’s fine. 

it would be weird if he were to feel disappointed.

o o o 

“did you forget to pick the baby up from daycare again?” is the first thing hoseok says when they arrive, not so much as a nod or a ‘hello.’ 

seokjin rolls his eyes at him, pulling his hood down and stuffing his cap and mask into his jacket pocket as he slides onto the bench next to yoongi. 

“i called him, he said he’s gaming and he’ll order something in later.” 

hoseok’s frown deepens but he hasn’t looked at namjoon yet, has not in fact looked in his direction even once since they walked in and namjoon doesn’t know why he feels like this is something he should be proud of. 

“this brat,” hoseok mutters, mostly to himself, and then before namjoon can even take a sip of the beer that’s waiting for him, hoseok yanks him in against his side, his phone held out in front of them to take a picture. namjoon’s pretty sure he’s side-eying hoseok in it, but hoseok either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he only nods to himself decisively as he taps away at something for a second and then pockets his phone, looking for some reason very pleased with himself. 

when namjoon looks across the table at yoongi and seokjin to see if they find anything about this odd, they’re having a strangely intense sounding whispered conversation about numbers. 

“no way. fifteen, absolute max,” hoseok is shaking his head, and yoongi raises his eyebrows at this but then seems to consider it, ‘hmm’ing to himself thoughtfully. seokjin reaches across the grill plate to shake hoseok’s hand, and namjoon probably doesn’t want to know, honestly. 

not long later, jungkook practically skids in through the door to the restaurant and namjoon is both more and tragically less confused. 

when he glances down at his watch to check, it’s exactly fifteen minutes since they got here and he knows all too well now why hoseok and seokjin are exchanging money under the table. 

but then jungkook is there, stopping at namjoon’s side to press his finger to namjoon’s dimple before he slides into the seat directly across from him and when he pulls his hoodie off his shirt gets caught up with it and namjoon gets to see a flash of his stomach, just a sliver really, but it’s jungkook’s bare skin and as such, the sight of it makes namjoon feel like he’s just been tasered. 

“you must have been hungry after all,” namjoon says so he doesn’t start crying instead. their apartment is twenty minutes away by car. jungkook is still wearing his house slippers. namjoon doesn’t understand. nothing about this makes sense, except for a couple of things that he really wishes didn’t. 

“actually, i think he was just super, super thirsty,” seokjin says, and namjoon definitely doesn’t understand why this makes hoseok cackle and sets jungkook blushing. 

“are you dehydrated?” namjoon asks him, reaching across the table to gently pinch jungkook’s cheek to check the elasticity of his skin. it seems very soft to him, though this observation is purely medical in nature and namjoon would like that noted. “do we need to have the fridge in your room restocked? i’ll text one of the manager hyungs, they’ll get it -” 

the soft thud of yoongi’s forehead hitting the surface of the table makes namjoon jump in his seat. 

“i can’t do this anymore. i can’t. i just can’t,” yoongi seems to be moaning, but seokjin already has a comforting arm around his shoulders so he’s probably fine. namjoon would ask, or check, but he’s too busy trying to think of another reason to touch jungkook. 

“i think it’s cute,” hoseok says, apropos of absolutely nothing and maybe namjoon has made peace with the relatively idyllic reality of not always knowing what the fuck is going on or what the fuck his friends are talking about, but it’s been a while since he felt this out of the loop. he’s so far outside of this particular loop they’re in that he’s not sure he could find it even if someone sent him the gps coordinates. 

“hyung, can i try a sip of your beer?” jungkook asks, already reaching for it and not seeming to notice or care that namjoon’s hand is still holding onto the bottle, just curling his fingers over namjoon’s and lifting the bottle to his mouth when namjoon nods dumbly. 

distantly, namjoon registers what sounds like muffled sobbing, but jungkook keeps his eyes locked with namjoon’s when he tips his head back and takes a long drink, his throat working around a swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. 

and, well. namjoon doesn’t really do very much more thinking, after that.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

jungkook has always stuck pretty close to namjoon. 

from day one, he’d become something like his shadow and namjoon had been surprised by it, shocked by how long it went on for, even, but it’s always made sense to him. 

he’s the leader and jungkook decided that by following his lead, he would be fulfilling his duties as best he possibly could. 

namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever been the best possible example of anything, but after he got over the fear he’d felt at the added responsibility of being something like a mentor to jungkook on top of being the whole group’s leader, he’d come to take solace in it. he hadn’t had to worry too much about where jungkook was or what kind of people he might be being influenced by, because he never really left namjoon’s side and if he did, it was to go to yoongi or seokjin’s side - when one or both of them were usually already at hoseok’s side - or at absolute worst to go roll around in the proverbial mud with the 95z. 

as time went on, jungkook started to let the rope slacken. as he grew up, he made space for more distance between them and that hadn’t meant that they saw each other any less frequently, but it did mean that when they had days off or free time, jungkook no longer got dressed and sat in the living room in case someone wanted to bring him somewhere; so no-one could try to leave the house without him. 

he got more comfortable being by himself, not always needing his hyungs around him for guidance and security and it was nice to watch him grow into himself, to figure out who he was when no one else was looking and how to love just who that was. 

it had surprised namjoon to find that it was harder to get used to jungkook’s absence than it had been to accept his sudden and constant presence. 

it was good for jungkook, which was good for them all, but it also meant that there were times when namjoon looked at jungkook and could only think of him as someone who he in some ways didn’t know. and he could never figure out why that didn’t sit right with him. 

they all had private lives to some extent, as limited and tragic as the reality of that was, and namjoon liked the fact that taehyung was sometimes a total mystery to him. that jimin had circles of friends that weren’t anything to do with bangtan. that sometimes yoongi started and finished entire tracks for his solo projects before namjoon ever got to see or hear about them. hoseok came back to them re-energized after taking or teaching dance sessions in styles and disciplines that fascinated him personally, not only professionally. it genuinely warmed namjoon’s heart to see seokjin throw himself into his college work, as committed as ever but with more breathing room and time to actually enjoy what he was doing now rather than simply piling it on top of the fifteen other things he had to do that day. 

at this point in their careers, taehyung could be two weeks into a new hobby before he mentioned it, could produce new artwork no one knew he’d even been working on and it was just plain nice, namjoon thought, that they all had their own things, their own space, their own lives now in a way that they’d never had before. they still always came back together to share those things eventually. they brought their personal pursuits and accomplishments to everything they did together as a group and namjoon loved that their growth wasn’t just measured in vertical chart movements anymore, but horizontally, exponentially, in every which way and direction and no longer just as a single entity anymore, but instead as one unit made up of seven distinct parts. 

their individual strengths became their collective success and namjoon is grateful for all of it, for the hardships that they’d survived by huddling up and tackling them together, besides. 

but namjoon still thinks about how jungkook had pulled away from them and how easily he remembers the newness, the strangeness, the wrenching wrongness of that that he’d felt at experiencing it, at looking back at it too. 

jungkook hadn’t gone anywhere, not really, but namjoon had measured the distance between them constantly, had felt it very keenly nonetheless. it got tolerable after a while, and then it got easier with practice, and then it became routine and totally normal. 

but still, namjoon thinks of how the way jungkook chose to grow up away from him - without him, even if only sometimes, in some ways - evokes a very different reaction in him than the pride and fond delight he felt and still feels for the way the others had done the very same thing. 

he tries (and frequently fails) not to think of what’s happening between them now as jungkook coming _back_ to him. 

he finds himself fretting almost constantly about what he can do to keep him here.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

when jungkook stands up from the table, namjoon’s eyes automatically follow him. 

“it’s nice to eat together, we should do this more often, hyung,” jungkook says, picking up both their plates to bring them to the sink. “i’m gonna get a car to the gym i think, are you going anywhere today?” 

they’ve been promoting for nine days straight and namjoon’s body hurts in ways and places that he didn’t know it still could. pilates is going to be a bitch this week, but he knows he’ll feel much better after it, because he always does. 

jungkook turns the water off and sets their dishes on the drying rack and he’s not looking at namjoon but namjoon can’t take his eyes off him. he’s wearing a navy blue shirt with some kind of emblem on the chest pocket and namjoon doesn’t know what brand it is or when jungkook had gotten it. he doesn’t know when jungkook stopped wearing only ever black or white or grey at a push, when they were at home. 

as he comes back across the kitchen, jungkook rolls his sleeves up, looking at namjoon quizzically and it’s only then that namjoon properly registers that jungkook had asked him a question, because he’d been lost in just the sound of jungkook’s voice, in the peace and quiet of just the two of them, in the curve of jungkook’s jaw and the way he held his chopsticks and the quick whistling breaths he let out when his food was too hot and the tattoos that climbed his wrist now, permanent markings that namjoon knew the meaning behind but hadn’t been there for the process of. 

jungkook lifts his eyebrows, another question, but pauses at the table, about to kiss namjoon goodbye and namjoon realizes abruptly that he doesn’t want jungkook to kiss him. that he doesn’t want to say goodbye. 

“can i come with you?” he asks, and it comes out like one single word, the sounds rushed and jumbled together, hasty with near-panic. 

without moving back, jungkook only tilts his head at him, looking surprised. 

“you want to come to the gym? with me? now?” 

namjoon goes to the gym sometimes, but he almost always goes alone. he’s the only one of them who prefers to work out in the evenings, if he can. 

thinking (thinking) _thinking_ , namjoon lifts up out of his seat to press a kiss just above the line of jungkook’s jaw. 

“yeah, let’s go,” he says, and jungkook smiles - a different kind of smile, a new one that namjoon hasn’t seen before - and holds a hand out to help him up.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon, yoongi and taehyung arrive to the shoot first, the other car either stuck in traffic or delayed by hoseok doing aegyo so they could stop to get snacks. 

they’re in the middle of a rush of busy weeks and it’s been a generous handful of kisses between him and jungkook since namjoon last got a full night’s sleep. when he checks his reflection in his front camera, the bags under his eyes are bigger than his actual eyes. he looks like an extra from some kind of horror movie, and not one that’s likely to survive until the end. he pushes his hair back out of his face, slaps at his cheeks to try and bring some color back into them and then glances fretfully at the door to the building. 

“i’ll go first,” he decides, gently pushing taehyung back down into his seat when the make-up noona calls out that she’s ready and taehyung automatically starts to stand. 

yoongi, already seated in another stylist’s chair, spins to face namjoon immediately. 

“you super eager to have your war paint on for even longer today for a particular reason, or?” 

yoongi is probably the most perceptive member of the group and he’s definitely the one who knows the most about literally all of them, but he also largely simply doesn’t care to try and meddle in their lives, so for the most part it’s not a problem. 

namjoon can feel his eyes darting around wildly, refusing to meet yoongi’s. 

“it’s uh -” he pushes his left hand up inside his right sleeve, scratching at an itch that isn’t physical, “i just um …” it’s yoongi, so there’s really no point in even trying to lie. namjoon sighs. “i look like fresh shit, okay? i look like i’ve been hit by a bus but only after falling off a forty storey building. my skin is breaking out because i haven’t been drinking enough water and no amount of face masks could save me now, so i’m launching a cover-up mission, is that okay with you?” 

where anyone else would physically recoil from this outburst; namjoon speaking loudly - sharply - like he almost never does, yoongi only looks at namjoon; unimpressed and far too knowing. 

“he saw you before you left the house, you dumbass. he’s also seen you at your actual and literal worst, just like the rest of us have.” 

slumping in his chair, namjoon burrows his chin down under the collar of his jacket, sulking. 

“that doesn’t mean it would hurt to remind him that i can look half decent, when a team of highly trained professionals make that happen.” 

it’s not unreasonable of him to want to look somewhat alright, at least sometimes. he knows he’s not ugly or whatever. but he also knows that it’s probably pointless, because jungkook is so attractive that he somehow manages to be adorable, beautiful and ridiculously fucking hot all at the same time; when he’s bare faced and half asleep, when he’s sweaty and flushed after coming offstage, always, no matter what, all the fucking time. relentlessly so, if you ask namjoon. 

so how come namjoon can’t have even this? can’t he at least try, if nothing else? 

“you’re too smart to be this stupid, namjoon-ah,” seems to be all yoongi has left to say on the matter, because he takes his phone out of his pocket and reaches for his ear buds, then. 

it’s only when jungkook shows up, looking tired and pale and still somehow the best thing namjoon has ever seen, that namjoon realizes that yoongi hadn’t felt it necessary to clarify who the ‘he’ he’d referred to was, and neither had namjoon. 

well, shit. 

that’s probably something to get anxious about when namjoon next gets a half second to think. 

fuck. 

right before the shoot starts, jungkook comes to stand at namjoon’s side. 

namjoon smiles at him, nods in a way that even feels weirdly polite, and then crosses the room to go stand with hoseok.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

days later, although it feels more like years by now, namjoon is dead on his feet. 

this time, though, they all are. 

seokjin and taehyung have to physically carry hoseok from the car into the elevator in their building and jimin and yoongi are leaning on one another like they’re each all that’s keeping the other upright. jungkook all but falls against the mirrored wall of the elevator and namjoon’s vision blurs and slides sideways as he looks at him. 

when they all shuffle out at their floor, jungkook thumps gently up against namjoon’s back, his fingers crawling around namjoon’s ribcage to lock loosely around his waist. namjoon is so exhausted that he doesn’t even panic. all he can think about is getting jungkook safely inside, making sure all of them make it home in one piece. 

“don’t even think about trying to wake me unless you’re a handsome and chivalrous prince,” seokjin announces before he disappears, and the rest of them just moan vaguely, probably in agreement but also maybe just in general protest at his ongoing and increasingly ludicrous claims to be a real life disney princess. 

jungkook’s head is heavy on namjoon’s shoulder and he holds jungkook’s clasped hands with one of his own, the other reaching back to pat at jungkook’s hip, gently urging him to stay in motion for just a little bit longer. 

when they get to jungkook’s room they pull apart to get changed, though namjoon keeps his eyes on jungkook the whole time, watchful in case he falls. his eyes are closed and he’s not exactly steady on his feet and namjoon isn’t faring much better but he could at least throw himself to the ground so he would cushion jungkook’s fall. he has to have at least that much energy left in him, if nothing else. 

tonight, namjoon is the one to help jungkook brush his teeth, though jungkook won’t let him do all the work. his grip on the toothbrush in namjoon’s hand is stubborn and his pouty frown is somehow even cuter when his eyes are mostly closed and he’s too tired to form full words, just grunts at namjoon in exhausted, cranky displeasure. 

when he’s leaning over to wash his face, namjoon curls against his back, his cheek probably damp against jungkook’s shirt, but he doesn’t say anything about it so namjoon doesn’t make himself move. he falls asleep on his feet for a second, startling awake again still wrapped around jungkook in a back hug and he feels it when jungkook laughs at him. 

they shuffle back into the bedroom together like their bodies have suddenly aged fifty years over the course of one day and when jungkook lifts the covers up off his bed he turns sideways and grabs for a handful of namjoon’s sleep shirt, tugging at him to usher him into bed first. 

the second jungkook is horizontal he’s rolling over to bury his face in against namjoon’s neck and namjoon’s arms come up around him like the rub of his nose over namjoon’s collarbones is some kind of magic word; a tactile talisman that triggers a divine and ancient spell. 

namjoon kisses the top of jungkook’s head, and then between one blink and the next, he’s asleep.

o o o 

namjoon almost jumps out of his skin when his pillow moves. 

he bolts upright, his heart in his throat, and then promptly feels like he swallows it whole when he makes eye contact with an equally startled jungkook. 

because namjoon hadn’t actually been sleeping on a pillow at all. this is jungkook’s bed that namjoon is in and there aren’t any pillows on it so namjoon had been sleeping on jungkook’s chest instead. 

that was some very creative problem solving on last night’s namjoon’s part. 

“oh, we -” jungkook’s voice is low and rough still and the neckline of the shirt he’s wearing scoops really almost indecently low and namjoon definitely doesn’t have the existential clearance to deal with this. a large part of his brain hasn’t come online yet and the parts that are still dead to the world must be where his impulse control is stored, because when he gropes for it inside himself he comes up completely empty-handed. 

“yeah, we -” namjoon says, clearing his throat because he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence and also because his voice has dropped about an octave since he last heard it. 

jungkook’s eyes slip shut again for a second, his forehead creasing up like he’s in pain. just how long have they been asleep? 

when namjoon reaches across jungkook to grab his phone off the nightstand, jungkook shifts until he almost ends up with his face pressed up into namjoon’s chest. when namjoon glances down at him, his eyes are mostly closed and his face is slack and dreamlike. he’s unbearably adorable when he’s half asleep and first-thing-in-the-morning clumsy, still, so even though when namjoon checks the time, he finds they’ve been sleeping for almost twelve hours, he locks his phone again without checking any of his messages and settles back into bed, at jungkook’s side this time instead. 

“sleep,” is all he says when jungkook makes a questioning sound in the back of his throat. he seems to be most of the way there already, but he manages something like a nod, one corner of his mouth lifting when namjoon’s hand settles in his hair, leaning up on one elbow so he can look down into jungkook’s face. 

“sleep, baby,” he says, and then he says nothing more, his thoughts doing all the talking; loud and insistent and leaving no room for argument or confusion, today.

later, when they’re both awake and up and lucid and making the bed together, jungkook hip checks namjoon out of the way suddenly, fixing a strange lump in the sheets by kicking something under the bed. 

namjoon leaves to go get dressed, but finds himself coming right back, slow and uncertain about it now because he literally just left but they don’t have any schedules until this afternoon and namjoon’s got nothing he needs to do, nowhere else he’d rather be. 

he finds jungkook sitting on his knees on the floor, gently patting dust off a koya plushie that he has just pulled out from underneath his bed. namjoon watches jungkook stand to put it at the head of his bed but then rethink that decision and tuck it carefully into a drawer, instead, smiling to himself as he does. 

namjoon waits a long moment before he knocks on the doorframe, but jungkook still whirls around looking guilty, looking somehow caught. 

they should do something productive, namjoon decides. they need to work, because that always comes first. 

“hey, um. would you maybe wanna … ” he starts, thinking about how jungkook’s been writing more lately, “do you want to show me -” 

“sure. yes. of course, hyung,” jungkook says before he can finish, his hand already stretching out in namjoon’s direction. 

namjoon pauses, feels like his whole body stutters in place for a second, but then jungkook’s smile brightens even further and namjoon steps forward, instinctive; a flower biologically designed to move towards the biggest, brightest source of light, a bumblebee drawn to pollen the very same way. 

it’s jungkook. 

it’s just jungkook, and that’s why namjoon doesn’t have to worry. 

but it’s not just jungkook, it’s never been _just_ jungkook, and that’s what makes it terrifying. 

namjoon lets jungkook take his hand as soon as he’s within reach, and goes when jungkook tows him across the room to his work space. 

he sits next to jungkook for hours, their knees pressed together, their arms criss-crossing at the computer screen and over the keyboard, the backs of their hands brushing together in the space between their chairs. 

namjoon spends the whole day with jungkook, after spending the night with him too, and in every way that counts, he is a million, trillion miles away.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the next night - or well, early morning, actually - jungkook is lounging on namjoon’s bed, switching between editing footage he’s putting together on this laptop and rolling onto his back to lift his camera and take pictures of namjoon as he potters around the room, tidying his work space and folding and sorting his laundry away. he can’t imagine why jungkook wants pictures of this, but maybe his love of clean and neatly folded clothes extends further than any of them had thought. 

their schedules start early tomorrow, but no matter how heavily their conversation comes to be punctuated by their yawns, neither of them say anything about calling it a night. namjoon has been dressed for bed for hours now. jungkook showed up in a tshirt and shorts that looked so worn and comfortable that namjoon has barely been able to hold himself back from reaching for jungkook with grabby hands and wrestling him down onto the floor to nap with him; to curl up around him, on him, _with_ him any which way jungkook would let him get there. now that namjoon has spent the night sleeping next to jungkook - when they absolutely didn’t have to, unlike during their trainee days, which makes it different to an extent that namjoon is astounded by - he thinks about a lifetime of sleeping not next to jungkook like he’s been sentenced to it, like he’s being punished for something. 

finally, jungkook’s jaw cracks audibly when he yawns in the middle of a sentence and he closes his laptop and stacks his camera on top of it, his movements decisive now even though he’s been a loose and languid thing flopped out across namjoon’s sheets, illustrating the things he’s saying with huge and lazy, looping motions, his hands sketching in the air above him. 

he stands up, his things piled carefully in his arms, and namjoon resigns himself to watching him leave. he’ll get to kiss him goodbye first, at least. he can go looking for him first thing in the morning, as soon as he wakes up, if he wakes up still missing him. 

but then jungkook moves, and when he starts to walk across the floor it’s in the wrong direction. he goes further into namjoon’s room, away from the door instead of towards it. he places his laptop carefully on namjoon’s desk, neatly lined up next to namjoon’s, and then he turns to namjoon with his hands curled into the hem of his tshirt. 

“hyung, can i -” his eyes dart from namjoon to the bed between them and then back to namjoon again. namjoon holds his breath. “would it be okay if i slept here? with you?” 

namjoon, hysterically, wants to say that he’d hardly be sleeping here without namjoon. he hopes that it’s actually him being here that makes jungkook ask, that makes jungkook want to stay, but it’s probably more likely that jungkook has just taken a liking to namjoon’s fabric softener. he’s kind of a nut for certain kinds of smells, anything that’s used for fabrics especially. namjoon had switched his brand recently. not because he’d thought of it as laying some kind of trap that could potentially appeal to and possibly even eventually snare jungkook. but also not not because of that, either. nice smelling things make jungkook happy, and namjoon wants to make jungkook happy however and as often as he can, that’s all. 

“of course you can sleep here,” namjoon says, because what else can he say? he can’t even imagine another response he might give to this question. if this was a writing assignment sent directly down the chain by bang pd himself, namjoon couldn’t write an alternate version of this scenario. “if you want to, of course you can, jungkook.” 

this answer seems to both please and sadden jungkook, for some reason. he sighs first but then looks to struggle to bring himself to smile; holds it steady though the expression never really grows past tentative. 

even as they climb into namjoon’s bed together, there’s something stilted about how jungkook moves, a tension in him that makes him look awkward to namjoon’s eyes until they’re lying together in the middle of the bed. it’s then that namjoon takes a risk and curls his fingers around jungkook’s wrist and when he does, jungkook turns onto his side, facing namjoon now but with his eyes already closed. it’s like he rolls right up out of whatever was holding his body so stiffly, leaving it aside completely when namjoon touches him. he moves closer, fits himself alongside namjoon’s body, and sighs in something like relief. 

namjoon watches jungkook for a long time, before sleep comes to him. he marvels at the occasional flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek. he finds himself swallowing back a gasp when jungkook shuffles closer to him, pushing his nose down into the space between their pillows. when jungkook kicks the covers mostly off the two of them and starfishes out across the sheets, namjoon doesn’t think before he follows him, curling in against his side. jungkook’s arm comes down around namjoon’s shoulders, pulling him in closer even in his sleep and it takes forever for namjoon’s heartbeat to calm down, after that. the way jungkook smells helps. the combination of the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with namjoon’s new fabric softener is something namjoon wants to roll around in, ridiculously. the feel of him, warm and close and slack, soft in sleep both helps to soothe namjoon and also does the very and exact opposite of that. 

it’s hard for namjoon to fall asleep, that night. but for nothing but good reasons, even if they scare him in nature and intensity still. 

he’s sleeping next to jungkook and he likes that. 

he likes it far too much, is the thing. 

he could get used to this, is the problem. 

he’d do anything for the chance to get used to this, is his last thought, that night.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the night after that, jungkook doesn’t ask. 

he just shows up late into the evening and kisses namjoon on the cheek and then wordlessly climbs into namjoon’s bed like its his own. 

namjoon stays at his desk and frets, frozen where he sits. he wonders if jungkook took namjoon telling him that he could sleep here last night as some kind of blanket permission to do that always, now. namjoon finds it hard to believe that he could have communicated his true feelings on the matter so simply and instantly. usually he has to talk around his feelings for a while before he and whoever he’s talking to figure out where he’d been intending to go, but as usual everything seems so much simpler and easier with jungkook and maybe the real question here is why namjoon is still surprised by that. 

by the time namjoon goes to bed, jungkook is already asleep and snoring softly. namjoon stands looking down at the curve of jungkook in his bed and no matter how he tries, he can’t see the way he’s lying as anything other than a shape that namjoon’s own body is meant - destined to - complete. 

he lies down next to him, fits himself to curl around him and tries not to sigh out loud at how right it feels. 

when jungkook moves in his sleep, reaching behind himself and fidgeting until his hand finds the material of namjoon’s shirt and he can knot his fingers in it, namjoon lies completely still and tries very hard not to want this forever.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the morning after _that_ , taehyung’s stink face dawns bright and spectacular the moment jungkook walks out of namjoon’s room ahead of him, first thing in the morning. it lasts all through breakfast, his refusal to look at or speak to namjoon persisting for hours thereafter. 

namjoon has gradually shifted from not noticing at all, to then thinking taehyung just didn’t sleep well, to now wondering if he actually did something to hurt or upset taehyung. he’s going to ask jimin, but then he and hoseok form an impromptu huddle to discuss changing a part of the choreography they’re working on, and taehyung’s spot is right next to namjoon anyway, so it’s easier for once to just go to the source himself. 

“hey,” namjoon says, tucking two fingers into the pocket of taehyung’s corduroy pants and tugging, “are we good? did i do something?” 

taehyung frowns at him heart-feltedly but seems to struggle to hold the expression the longer namjoon maintains his hold on the material of his pants, still tugging every now and then. 

“did i, hyung? did i do something to you? do you hate me, hyung? because i can’t understand why else you would so unequivocally refuse to let me cuddle you in a camper van for the viewing pleasure of millions but you’re perfectly content to let that thing crawl between your sheets in the privacy of our own home,” the gesture taehyung makes at jungkook is not complimentary, but in his defense jungkook is at that moment doing his damndest to pull out the hair tie that’s holding seokjin’s bangs back out of his face. with his teeth. 

namjoon thinks for a moment, but doesn’t find that this effort turns up any new insight or answers. he loves taehyung. he loves jungkook. he loves all of them, and a lot of other people besides. but he’s never been great at feeling at ease with someone all the way inside his personal bubble and they all know that about him. it’s not something he can change, not all at once at least. 

“it’s a different thing. it’s jungkook,” is all namjoon can say, and he doesn’t think he’s the only participant in this conversation who notices that he offers no explanation as to why it being jungkook makes it different, exactly. for now, all namjoon can do is offer up two true things without having the first clue how to explain the correlation between them. 

“i know that, hyung,” taehyung says, and it doesn’t sound to namjoon like he’s referring to the scant few words that namjoon has been able to offer him in nothing close to real explanation, “but do you?” 

“do i what?” namjoon asks, genuinely confused and not for the first time today, definitely not for the first time on this particular topic. he thinks. it’s kind of hard to tell what they’re talking about, honestly. 

“do you _know_ , hyung?” taehyung asks meaningfully, and then before namjoon can offer some kind of lame assertion that he certainly knows some things, he’s pretty confident that while he doesn’t know a lot of things, there are definitely things that he does in fact know, jimin is clapping for their attention and hoseok is counting them back in. 

when jungkook spins by namjoon later on in the choreography, he stretches - almost stepping out of line - to touch his thumb to namjoon’s bottom lip. he’s grinning as he whirls away, always happiest when he’s learning something new and both enjoying it and nailing it. it’s challenging choreography - intricate and physically taxing in turn - and jungkook lights up for it, burns brightly, always in the spotlight when namjoon looks at him. 

by the time they’re given reprieve, namjoon has almost forgotten to be exhausted. 

jungkook strips his shirt off, chugs a bottle of water, wipes his face with the back of his hand and then presses a smacking kiss to namjoon’s forehead. 

“remember when that was new? remember when that was still a novel thing?” seokjin says, sounding almost nostalgic, and the thing is, namjoon can remember that quite easily, but also - he realizes - he doesn’t really want to. 

“yeah, but this is better,” jimin says, and namjoon whole-heartedly agrees, even though he doesn’t quite know why jimin would think so too. 

“welcome to the new normal, hyungs,” jungkook says, his bare chest still heaving under his taxed breaths but his grin taking easy command of all his features, his eyes shining. “well, hyungs and rapmon hyung. namjoon hyung.” he frowns, like none of those were the words he’d meant to say, like none of them sound the way he’d wanted. “my namjoon hyung. my husband? chagiya. ah -” he nods, seemingly to himself. “chagiya,” he repeats, like he’s just discovered something. namjoon has no idea what that is, exactly, but jungkook seems both pleased by and set on it, whatever it is, and that’s good enough for namjoon. 

yoongi rolls his eyes and hoseok scoffs loudly but nobody actually says anything, nobody frowns or yells at them or raps them across the knuckles for being gross and namjoon maybe didn’t think they would, but that doesn’t stop him from fearing that they might. 

it’s only after everyone has dispersed to go combing through their bags for their phones, for deodorant, for clean shirts or face wipes or whatever else makes them feel human again in moments like these, that namjoon realizes that he hadn’t reacted to what jungkook said at all. and jungkook hadn’t seemed to expect him to. 

at the core of it, namjoon feels deeply satisfied by jungkook calling him ‘his’ anything. that in and of itself is more than enough for namjoon, regardless of any possible term that might follow that word. 

but is calling namjoon his enough for jungkook? 

and if it’s not, what then? 

namjoon’s not sure what more he has to offer him. 

he has no idea what else jungkook might want.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

not that he ever expected to completely get away with sleeping with jungkook on the regular now, but namjoon finds that maybe he’d been kind of hoping that no one noticed, somehow, when jimin calls him out on it a few days later and he feels instantly both chastened and disappointed even before jimin says anything. 

“so,” he says, spreading his arms along the back of the couch and lifting one ankle up to balance across the knee of his other leg. “you and jungkook finally found a way to somehow cohabitate even more than we all already do, hm hyung?” 

namjoon tries very hard not to let his frown turn into a scowl. 

“is there a way of living together that’s somehow different to just living together?” he asks, deliberately obtuse, because while he knows it won’t throw jimin off at all, what he doesn’t know is how else to avoid these kinds of questions. he’s never really done anything that meant he got asked them, before. 

“well,” jimin is squinting at him now and namjoon both physically and also in every single other way possible braces himself. “there’s the kind of living together where you live together, and then there’s the kind of living together where you sleep in the same bed for absolutely no reason and feed each other without even noticing that you’re doing it and kiss each other all the time just because.” the look he levels at namjoon could make a lesser man confess to crimes he didn’t commit. “what’s that second one like, hyung?” he rolls his head on his neck, his spine cracking loudly and it’s distinctly menacing in a way that namjoon shouldn’t be intimidated by and yet absolutely is. “how’s life as just a couple of besties, attached at the hip and hopelessly devoted to one another?” 

the very meaningful fact that it’s jimin that’s saying all of this to him does not escape namjoon. the fact that either half of whatever the fuck jimin and taehyung are feels entitled to and justified in confronting namjoon on the nature of his relationship with jungkook makes him question just how ridiculous that not-actually-a-relationship has gotten. 

now would be a good time to think about this, he decides, throwing jimin a wounded look and then putting his airpods in, the universal sign for ‘i love you, but fuck off.’ 

what’s important, namjoon decides, is that it’s not like he and jungkook are sharing a bed every night now. 

there are plenty of nights when neither of them sleep in beds at all and if on those nights they curl up together on the couch in namjoon’s studio or on the mats in the practice room then that’s just a matter of making those limited spaces work for them as best they can. it’s responsible of them to sleep one tucked up in the arms of the other, is all. it makes sense both spatially and objectively. 

and okay maybe they’re still kissing each other on the cheek and maybe it’s started happening a little more frequently, both of them sometimes reaching out at the same time as soon as they step inside the apartment and then laughing at themselves when they step on each other’s toes or almost bump their faces together by accident. 

but namjoon and jungkook used to be just as close as this ( if not quite like this ) when they were trainees and rookies still, so why can’t namjoon have this again? why is it a big deal now? because namjoon is meeting jungkook halfway? because namjoon is maybe working even   
harder to get to and stay by jungkook’s side, now? 

before, jungkook was always the one chasing after namjoon, always at least one step behind because he was a kid still, completely new to music and trying to find his feet in life itself, still. now, they’re coming back together again as equals, jungkook finally fully grown and both of them having done a lot of growing up since they were trainees, since their debut. namjoon realizes now that jungkook had to step away from him, from all of them, to grow up into himself. to come into his own and become himself on his own terms, in ways and by means distinctly only his and not theirs. 

they all cycle through different levels of closeness with one another at different times, for different reasons, so is it really a somehow life altering thing that namjoon can’t imagine himself ever pulling away from jungkook again, if it’s up to him? 

well - technically - yes. that kind of is a life altering thing, because namjoon would do whatever he needed to, he’d change his life however he had to to keep jungkook front and center in it. but they’re in a group together. they live together. they’ve very close friends. they love and respect each other and they always have and they always will so why is everyone suddenly acting like everything is so different now, all of a sudden? 

so what if they’re being a little more affectionate? so what if that’s something that namjoon has historically struggled with but finds completely easy, totally and utterly simple with jungkook? everybody experiences things differently. every single individual on earth is built differently. namjoon just happened to be born the way he is; to fit perfectly alongside jeon jungkook. it suits both of them. it’s good for group morale or whatever, for team members to bond better. 

it’s not like he treats jungkook differently to how he treats the rest of them. 

or. 

well. 

maybe it is, but not in any kind of way or to any degree that’s unfair. none of the rest of them want namjoon kissing them on the cheek, he’s pretty sure, and he’s pretty happy with that arrangement too. 

it’s definitely not like namjoon thinks about jungkook differently, or more often, or - 

well. 

actually. 

he does think about jungkook in a lot of ways that seem to fall under one kind of category, while the way he thinks about the rest of them falls decidedly under another. 

but it’s certainly not as though he thinks about jungkook constantly. that, he’s absolutely sure of. 

sometimes, he goes entire hours without thinking about jungkook once. and maybe that’s mostly while he’s working and he can’t think about literally anything else. and maybe a few errant thoughts about how great jungkook’s voice is or how absurdly lovely his hands are still always find a way to slip in under the radar, but namjoon knows for a fact that he lives entire stretches of his life without thinking about jungkook at all. and not even only when that’s because he’s asleep and dreaming about him, or first falling asleep fitfully, his arms folded across his chest and his hands balled into useless fists because jungkook isn’t always there for namjoon to hold no matter how much or how hard he wishes he was. 

but it’s not a thing, whatever this is between him and jungkook. 

it’s just them. it’s just how they are. it’s how they work. 

taehyung walks in and sits immediately in jimin’s lap, sideways so he can reach out and ruffle namjoon’s hair, looking pointedly at him. namjoon pauses his music but doesn’t take his airpods out because he’s not quite sure whether he wants to hear whatever taehyung might want to say to him. or more specifically - whether or not he’s ready to hear it, yet. 

“are you happy, hyung?” taehyung asks once he’s sure namjoon is listening, and it’s both not at all what namjoon had been expecting taehyung to say and also just the kind of thing that only taehyung would say. 

namjoon thinks about the question, but not for long. 

“i’m happier than i’ve been in a long time, taehyung-ah,” namjoon says, not adding that he’s not as happy as he’s starting to suspect he could be. not quite. not yet. “and you? are you happy?” 

taehyung grins at him, the fingers of one hand still lost in the hair behind namjoon’s ear and the other curled comfortably around jimin’s neck. 

“of course. how could i not be?” is his reply, and namjoon knows that this doesn’t mean that taehyung is happy all the time, or that it’s always easy for him to make his way back there, but it’s easier now than it’s ever been before. he sees that in taehyung and he sees it in the rest of them too. 

as usual, when he thinks about jungkook, it feels like he’s somehow wearing blinders but also seeing from inside jungkook’s own body and brain at the same time. too close and still too far. 

“is jungkook happy, do you think?” he asks, wondering if taehyung and jimin fare any better at being objective about jungkook, and not knowing why their smiles are both matching and slightly sad. 

“you’re good for him. you’re so good to all of us, hyung-ah,” jimin tells him, all mocking and mirth drained out of him, his lips pressed together and his hand on taehyung’s thigh careful. 

he says it like namjoon does something for jungkook that he doesn’t do for the rest of them. 

he says it like jungkook and namjoon are in some way something that’s different from who the rest of them are, from how they are whatever they are to one another, perhaps. 

“you’re all very important to me,” namjoon says, looking between taehyung and jimin and feeling oddly emotional, his eyes beginning to sting. “i love you all so very much.” 

the ‘but’ that naturally follows that seems huge and deafening to namjoon, but jimin and taehyung work their way around it to fold him up in an impromptu, tiny version of their group hug. 

when jungkook and seokjin tumble in upon them, it takes no effort at all to draw them down into it too, space blooming for them like the atoms and molecules of the room had been saving their spots all along. 

and when yoongi and hoseok show up twenty minutes after that - late, with starbucks - namjoon tilts his head to briefly rest against the hand that yoongi brushes over his shoulder in passing. 

hoseok shoots finger guns at him from across the room and namjoon, helplessly endeared by this and hopelessly devoted to all of these people in one way or another, sends finger hearts floating back in response. 

“i love you, hyungs!” jungkook yells right before they head out onstage, loud even above the roar of the crowd and namjoon closes his eyes against the thought that that sentiment is somehow not quite enough to satisfy him. not anymore. 

when they’re lined up and ready to go, namjoon steps out of place, abandoning his spot to go to jungkook and lock his arms around jungkook’s shoulders, the palms of his hands pressed to jungkook’s chest. in the dimly lit shadows of backstage, namjoon kisses jungkook just below his ear, disguising it as a whisper and doing his best not to think about what more might look like.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

when namjoon gets home from visiting his family, he’s not thinking about going to find jungkook first. 

he’d only been gone for a day and a bit and they’d texted the entire time, and they’d talked both days - jungkook calling to say good morning and namjoon calling to say goodnight. 

so naturally, he’s not at all disappointed when he lets himself in and the first person he sees is hoseok. 

“so the wanderer returns,” hoseok says, putting his book down to give namjoon his full attention. “thanks so much for letting us know you were leaving and where you going, leader-nim. it definitely didn’t almost make taehyung cry to wake up and find you gone,” hoseok lifts his arm up onto the back of the couch, comfortable and conversational. “seokjin had him convinced you’d been kidnapped before i woke up to talk them down. you’ll be pleased to know that everyone agreed to chip in for your ransom, no matter how much it turned out to be.” 

namjoon just stares at him. 

“i just went home. for like a day.”

“oh we know. now. because eventually jungkook woke up and told us,” hoseok says, and now namjoon is starting to see the problem. the managers knew where he was, of course, but other than jungkook - “because you didn’t see fit to tell anyone else.” 

ah. 

“fuck,” namjoon says, and hoseok nods in agreement. 

“that’s about the sum of it, yeah.” 

namjoon would apologize, he’s about to and profusely so, but then there’s a commotion at the front door. 

“ - said you’d buy it for me, hyung,” jungkook is still whining at yoongi even as he toes his boots off and doesn’t even put them up onto the shelf or slide on his house slippers before he’s walking into namjoon’s arms, his precious camera bag abandoned thoughtlessly in the entranceway. 

“please don’t ever leave him unattended again, joon-ah” is all yoongi says as he quickly bypasses them both to get to his room or maybe just to get away from them. 

“hi hyung. welcome home,” jungkook says with his chin hooked over namjoon’s shoulder and his cheek tilted up and in to rest against namjoon’s. 

“hi,” namjoon manages, oddly dazed for a moment. he stills in jungkook’s arms, feeling paused or frozen or some combination of the two, feeling like he’s somehow aware in some distant, from-outside-of-himself way that in this moment right here and right now, something important is happening. 

it’s just jungkook. it’s just jungkook back in his arms after a couple days when he wasn’t there at all. they’ve spent longer apart before, and they hadn’t even kept in nearly as much contact those times, but with jungkook here, warm against him again, it suddenly feels like forever since they’d last been here, like this, together. 

not quite understanding the sudden need but also not able to deny himself, namjoon hugs jungkook to him tighter. 

“what did hyung promise to buy for you? i’ll get it for you, whatever it is,” he says and he feels like an idiot, he feels like he’s doing something he should be embarrassed by but it’s been a long time, he realizes, since he was able to know that and still do whatever the fuck he finds himself wanting to. “if there’s something you want, tell me.” 

jungkook goes boneless against him, seems to slip and fall against namjoon but in instead of down. he’s letting namjoon take most of his weight, he’s almost lying on him even though they’re both standing up and namjoon wants to pick him up, wants to get him up off the floor and into his arms and take him somewhere where they can be alone, just the two of them together. 

“i’m trying, hyung,” jungkook says, and his voice is small, something very carefully contained within it, but namjoon can feel him smiling against the side of his face. 

not even seeing jungkook’s smile - just thinking about it, just picturing it - makes something inside of namjoon snap, a wishbone broken cleanly in two. 

he lifts jungkook up off the ground and spins him around, his arms around jungkook’s waist only going tighter when jungkook’s hands grip hard at his biceps, his gasp shocked and breathless. 

jungkook’s always the one lifting the rest of them, always the first one to step forward when something strenuous needs to be done and it’s cute. it’s sweet, and it’s lovely and it’s a lot of other things besides that namjoon can’t quite find the words for, but none of that makes him not want to surprise jungkook, to hold him, to treat him in ways he doesn’t expect whether that’s because it’s something he’s never thought to seek or something he might not know how to ask for. 

namjoon wants to show him something different. he wants to be something different for jungkook. he wants them to be something completely and wholly new together. 

“always tell me what you need, jungkook-ah,” namjoon says, waiting until he’s put jungkook back down and can pull back enough to duck down to look into jungkook’s face, to look right into his eyes. 

jungkook blushes and namjoon doesn’t know why, but he does too. 

“okay, hyung. i will,” he says, grinning at namjoon now, his hands slowly relinquishing their hold on namjoon’s biceps by sliding all the way down his arms, the pads of his fingers following the veins in namjoon’s forearms like he’s playing snakes and ladders across namjoon’s skin. 

namjoon grabs for jungkook’s hands before he can let them drop away and holds them in his own, squeezing for a second. 

“i missed you,” he tells jungkook and it’s probably stupid, it’s definitely another one of those things that he’s certain he’s supposed to be embarrassed to admit out loud, but it’s also true. looking at jungkook, namjoon is kind of astounded by just how true it is. 

“same,” jungkook says, his mouth closing his smile down around the word like he’s trying to wrap it up, to keep it safe. “i missed you too, hyung.” 

they’re still hand in hand when they start moving and namjoon doesn’t know where they’re going, but he knows he’d follow jungkook anywhere. jungkook leads them to namjoon’s bedroom, where he sits cross-legged and bright-eyed on namjoon’s sheets and watches while namjoon unpacks, only scolding him for his terrible folding skills twice. 

they spend the day together, doing absolutely nothing and when jungkook kisses namjoon goodnight high and soft on his cheek and then climbs into namjoon’s bed with him, namjoon’s heart knocks and knocks and knocks inside his chest. 

he falls asleep with jungkook’s hand in his and he wakes up with jungkook drooling on his shoulder. 

but namjoon still misses jungkook, somehow. 

he looks at him and he can feel him sleeping solid and warm next to him, but there’s something in him that yearns, regardless. 

there’s some part of him that’s still not satisfied, that calls to him asking - increasingly loudly, more desperate every single time - for _more_.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

hoseok is already well ensconced on the couch in namjoon’s studio when seokjin arrives and knocks to be let in. 

whereas hoseok is here because he and namjoon had some verses to go through and work on, seokjin comes just because he likes to poke his head into every room in the building where he knows he might find one of them, or better still - a hoobae to mentor and coddle against their will. 

“how’s it going?” seokjin asks, settling next to hoseok and leaning back in his seat, making himself comfortable. 

sometimes, seokjin knows, namjoon and hoseok and yoongi need to explain what they’re trying to say with their lyrics to someone who isn’t one of them, because the three of them have managed a mind meld so spectacular that sometimes they don’t even realize anymore when they’re just passing the single brain cell back and forth between them in a way that makes perfect sense to them, but little to none to anyone else. seokjin is often called on in these situations, and sometimes he brings jungkook or jimin or taehyung with him too. once, memorably, he’d brought beomgyu, who had looked close to tears when yoongi asked him what he thought. he’d pulled it together enough to give an actual answer, though, and managed to help them, at that. seokjin is so bright and safe, so vast and encouraging that he makes everyone around him shine, namjoon thinks. 

“don’t quote me on this,” hoseok says now, “but i think we may have achieved some things today.” 

seokjin feigns shock as namjoon shuts his desktop down and packs his laptop away. he pockets his phone before he stands, and then on a whim, just because they’re there and they both look up at him in unison, namjoon decides to go lie down across the couch on top of the two of them. 

hoseok’s legs tense under namjoon’s hips for a second, but seokjin’s hand slides quickly and easily into namjoon’s hair. 

when namjoon sighs in relief, in something like familiar, welcomed comfort, he feels both of them sag underneath him. 

“you’re way more like a cat than yoongi is, you know,” seokjin observes, stressing his point by scritching his fingernails against namjoon’s scalp. namjoon’s spine goes briefly liquid. 

“is that why he’s so clumsy? because he was born without his whiskers?” hoseok asks lightly, and namjoon smiles against the denim of seokjin’s jeans. if he had a tail, he’d curl it around hoseok’s arm in this moment, he thinks. 

“this is nice,” is what he says, and both hoseok and seokjin hum in agreement. “we should do this more often.” 

“anytime you want, babe,” hoseok says, smoothing the fabric of namjoon’s tshirt down against the small of his back. 

“our laps are your oyster. no, wait. you hate seafood. maybe this cat metaphor doesn’t work after all,” seokjin muses, his hand going still on the back of namjoon’s neck. “oh! i know. you’re a seal. our little seal pup.” 

he resumes his petting of namjoon then, apparently both pleased and decisive about his discovery. 

stretched out across them, tired but entirely comfortable, namjoon could feels no need to move or disagree.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

they’re doing unit photoshoots and namjoon is bored as fuck. 

the hyung line seems to be taking forever to get their shots, but that’s probably only the case because namjoon underestimated how much down time he’d have today and had finished the book he’d brought with him hours ago by now. 

jimin and taehyung are zipped up inside one huge coat and standing behind the cameras to heckle the hyungs, seokjin especially. namjoon would pull them away if - perhaps worryingly - they weren’t actually helping and speeding the process along. seokjin is especially pretty when he’s blushing and fighting his own smile and yoongi is all kinds of adorable when he’s amused by and enamoured with his hyung and trying not to be. hoseok is just pretty. all the time. 

touching a hand to his cheek and realizing that it’s been a minute since he lost sight of jungkook, namjoon goes in search of him. he leaves by way of the two headed single entity that is vmin and ruffles their hair in passing. 

“give him a kiss from me,” jimin calls after namjoon and namjoon doesn’t look back at him or any of the rest of them. 

he finds jungkook off at the outskirts of the filming site, his camera almost fused to his face and goosebumps on his arms that namjoon can see through the sheer material of his shirt once he’s close enough. 

“yah, where’s your coat,” he asks, instantly taking his own off to wrap around jungkook’s shoulders. he bends to zip it up from the bottom, carefully tucking jungkook’s elbows inside but letting him keep his hands and forearms free. he knows without asking that jungkook didn’t take a coat with him on purpose, both because he knows that jungkook isn’t ever even a little bit forgetful, and also because he’s heard jungkook complain that their puffy padded coats make him feel like he’s trying to take pictures with both his arms in casts. 

“thank you, chagiya,” jungkook murmurs and he doesn’t lower his camera but he does turn to point his lens at namjoon. 

sometimes, especially when they’re alone like they are right now, jungkook calls namjoon ‘yeobo’ or ‘chagiya’ in a way that’s entirely different to how he says it around the others. here, like this, he says it like it doesn’t matter who hears it. like no one at all could be listening and he’d still say it and just this way - easily, automatically, like those are the first words his brain supplies when he looks at namjoon or thinks about him. he uses them just as instinctively as he uses ‘hyung,’ namjoon realizes, and he doesn’t know how that thought materializes on his face, but whatever it does makes jungkook say “wah,” soft and mostly to himself as his shutter clicks start up again and keep on coming. 

“jimin told me to give you this,” namjoon says, to ground himself, to distract himself, because he feels seen enough when jungkook is looking at him and he feels something else entirely when jungkook decides that he’s worthy of capturing digitally or otherwise. 

jungkook’s arms are still in the way, so namjoon has to put his arms around jungkook’s waist when he leans around the camera to kiss jungkook’s cheek. it’s not strange, doing this when he can’t even see most of jungkook’s face. it’s become so familiar to him to be inside jungkook’s space that he instantly recognizes him by scent alone now when that probably would have taken him a couple of seconds at least a few months ago. sometimes when jungkook comes up behind him or settles at his side, namjoon recognizes him just from the heat of his body. just from how his body feels when it finds itself next to jungkook’s. 

“ew, gross,” jungkook says, lowering his camera at last to reveal his frowning face, the sides of his mouth curled down in apparent and comical disgust, almost grinch-like. “take it back hyung, i don’t want jimin kisses.” 

he swoops in to kiss namjoon on the cheek, firm and purposeful and namjoon - absurdly - wants to bring a hand up to his face to hide his giggles. 

“okay,” he says, “i’ll return this to jimin.” he lifts two fingers to the spot where jungkook’s lips just where and then presses them to his own lips, to transfer the kiss and ready it for transport. 

“no!” jungkook protests, frowning even harder. “don’t do that. i’ll take it. i want it. give it back hyung,” he demands and namjoon doesn’t know how anything about any of their interactions to date might have made jungkook doubt whether or not namjoon would do as he’s asked, but something must have, because instead of waiting for namjoon to do what he’s instructed, jungkook takes a step closer himself. he lifts namjoon’s chin with his free hand - his camera still held in the other - and sets his face to namjoon’s lips, the angle kind of off because it’s an awkward way to do this. namjoon’s mouth lands much, much closer to jungkook’s mouth than it’s ever been before and it’s still far enough away that it’s not actually a big deal, but it’s new. it’s a different kind of newness to anything namjoon has ever experienced with jungkook before and it makes him shiver. 

distantly, namjoon thinks he hears a shutter click, but it’s probably just another crack cutting through his shattered sanity. 

“let’s go back. you’re cold, hyung,” jungkook says, reading namjoon’s shiver as something other than what it really is. “we need to find you a coat.” he tucks one of his arms inside namjoon’s coat that he’s wearing almost properly now and lets his camera fall to his chest, held there by the strap around his neck. 

he tugs namjoon’s hand into his pocket and leaves his own in there too, curled around namjoon’s to keep him warm. 

when they make it back to the centre of commotion on the set, the hyung line seem to be wrapping up. everybody’s clapping and hoseok is cheering and yoongi is waddling furiously towards their trailer. 

namjoon shouts a belated “good work!” but when jungkook remains silent he turns to look at him. 

he’s staring at where jimin and taehyung are still stacked two inside one coat, taehyung curled over jimin’s back with his head on jimin’s shoulder. 

“why didn’t i think of that,” jungkook murmurs to himself, but then seems to feel namjoon’s eyes on him and turns towards him. “oh, right. great job, everyone,” his voice slides up into a yell even as his eyes return to jimin and taehyung and narrow, even as they extract themselves from the coat to get their make-up touched up before they’re called into frame. 

their shoot doesn’t take as long as the hyung’s had, or maybe it does, but it feels like it passes in the blink of an eye. all that namjoon really remembers of it is the bright light of the flash and jungkook with his arm slung around namjoon’s shoulders. when they take a break while a stylist comes to fix taehyung’s hair, jungkook leaves his arm where it is and reaches around namjoon to poke at jimin, where he stands on namjoon’s other side. 

jimin rolls his eyes and tries to bite jungkook’s fingers. 

“stay away. don’t touch me,” jungkook provokes jimin, even though he’s the one poking at jimin’s face and neck, prodding at him with his fingers. “this is a jimin-free zone.” 

“oh, is it? i’m sorry, i didn’t see the sign,” jimin says, mock-lightly, clearly doing his best to sound contrite. “what about this? is this a jimin-free zone too?” 

namjoon is already trapped between both of jungkook’s arms, so it doesn’t really bother him that much when jimin wraps himself around namjoon’s waist, his arms tight and clinging. he feels vaguely like he’s a trellis for them to climb, but he can’t say he minds. 

jungkook seems to feel differently, though, because he clutches namjoon closer to him and lifts his leg, kicking off his shoe so he can wedge his socked foot between namjoon’s hip and jimin’s stomach to try and push jimin off. 

“this area is strictly off limits!” jungkook gripes, his face drawn in concentration as jimin fights him to stay plastered to namjoon’s side. “no unauthorized personnel allowed!” 

taehyung comes back with his hair fixed and raises his eyebrows at jungkook and jimin’s antics. 

“and who is this ‘authorized personnel’?” taehyung asks, looking at namjoon like he can’t believe he’s permitting any of this. namjoon just shrugs and then looks down and away when his moving makes jungkook grip his shoulder tighter. 

“oh i know this one. it’s a long list, isn’t it, jungkook?” jimin finally relents, letting jungkook win for once and backing down to retreat to taehyung’s side instead. “there’s jungkook, and jeon jungkook, and jk, and ‘guk, and also kookie and the ceo of gcf productions. but bangtan sonyeondan’s maknae is the only one with vip access, right?” 

for the first time looking actually serious about it, jungkook makes a swipe at jimin, though he gets nowhere close because he’s still refusing to unwind himself from having both arms and now a leg wrapped around namjoon too. 

“you’ve become a traitor to the cause you once championed,” jungkook tells jimin, trying to sound all-knowing and vaguely disappointed and doing so by channeling his inner and audible uncle iroh. “you used to protect this territory with me, and now you move to invade it? for shame, jimin-ssi.” 

namjoon isn’t quite clear on this, but he thinks the signs and hints he’s picked up from this exchange point toward this ‘territory’ being him. he’s pretty sure that what’s collectively being discussed right now is the fact that his very being is something that jungkook has laid claim to. something he (used to?) elicit jimin’s help to ‘protect’? 

a test flash goes off and with it, so does a lightbulb in namjoon’s poor, overtaxed brain. 

he’s thinking suddenly of a dozen moments very similar to this one. he’s mentally flicking through a scrap book full of so many situations just like this one; them in front of a camera, sometimes with an audience watching and sometimes not, but the much more frequently occurring common denominator being either jungkook, jimin or both draped all over him. to … protect him? to shield him? but from who? from what? 

the photographer calls out an instruction and namjoon’s body moves to follow the direction before his mind has caught up enough to realize he’s even received one. 

“mine,” jungkook hisses at taehyung, elbowing him sharply in the side when taehyung has been told to switch spots with jimin and announces his arrival at namjoon’s side by trying to knock jungkook’s arm off namjoon’s shoulders and replace it with his own. 

taehyung doesn’t try to fight him, only laughs at jungkook’s vehemence and namjoon has no idea how they manage to finish the shoot when he feels like he has zero control over his face for every moment that remains of it, but by some miracle they do. 

as soon as they’re done, jimin, jungkook and taehyung immediately start to scuffle as they make their way back to the make-up trailer and namjoon lags behind, watching to make sure they’re not being too rough but needing not to the be in the middle of it all, for a moment. 

with his make-up cleaned off and his hair brushed free of hairspray and tucked back under a beanie, namjoon stares at himself in the mirror for a long and weighty moment. 

he looks at himself and thinks ‘jungkook’s. you could be _jungkook’s_.’ 

and even though it feels like something is dawning in him, like the edges of something are lining up and falling into place, like his brain has just connected a series of dots that he’s amazed and delighted by the new pattern of, the namjoon in the mirror does not smile.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the ancient and irrefutable wisdom of ‘rock, paper, scissors,’ is what decides that jungkook is the chosen one when during a rare quiet night at home for all of them, yoongi decides they need to make a snack run. 

it’s only when jungkook is pulling his hood up and patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet that namjoon realizes that his legs feel kind of stiff, that his body is buzzing with a kind of energy that it hadn’t seemed to possess a moment ago. 

“i could - come too?” he asks, and everyone turns to look at him. namjoon would like to reassure them that he’s not questioning the ‘rock, paper, scissors’ gods, that he wouldn’t dare, it’s just that he feels like a wind-up toy that someone needs to let loose, all of a sudden. someone specific, maybe. “we could go on our bikes?” 

jungkook nods and turns around to start rifling for namjoon’s shoes in the cupboard by the front door and namjoon moves so quickly he almost trips and falls over yoongi, who seokjin and taehyung have just tackled to the ground for some reason, but jungkook comes to him with his arms outstretched and helps him steady himself, waits patiently while namjoon laces his sneakers. 

there’s a quiet, intimate kind of joy in cycling through the streets at night, and namjoon isn’t at all surprised to find that that intimacy becomes bass boosted when he’s cycling with jungkook. when jungkook weaves around parked cars, around lamp posts, around anything and everything he can turn into some kind of obstacle, namjoon follows, not setting his course to anything other than the smile he sees lifting jungkook’s eyes every time he looks back at him. his feet on the pedals feel different tonight, the push of them an automatic thing that changes when jungkook speeds up, when jungkook slows down, when jungkook pauses to cycle in lazy loops around namjoon just to make him laugh. cycling is usually a different way for namjoon to focus, a physical routine to set his thoughts to and work methodically through. tonight, he doesn’t think at all. tonight, he’s just found another way to chase jungkook, a brand new way to follow him - the sound of his voice, the shape of his body in shadow, under streetlights. the delight in his eyes that namjoon can only see from up close, but knows is there in plenty of other ways besides. 

they tumble into the fluorescent light of the convenience store like they’re drunk, and jungkook runs with this theme as he piles things quickly and indiscriminately into namjoon’s arms until he can’t physically hold anymore. 

when namjoon tips everything carefully onto the countertop and reaches for his wallet, jungkook comes up behind him and gently nudges namjoon out of the way, adding a bag of poka chips - namjoon’s favourite - to the pile. 

“i’ve got it, hyung,” jungkook says, and it’s only because namjoon feels unsteady on his feet against the tides of his joy, it’s only because the clerk looks like they fell asleep doing this job two years ago and their body just kept doing it out of muscle memory, it’s only because they’ve both got their hoods pulled low and their masks high and dark. it’s only for these reasons that namjoon folds himself around jungkook’s back and opens his mouth against the stretch of jungkook’s trapeze muscle. there’s no force behind his teeth and they’re dulled by his mask and jungkook’s jacket anyway, but namjoon isn’t trying to hurt jungkook. he just wants to be close to him. closer than their bodies just touching. closer than lips on a cheek or hands stacked together. he opens his mouth against the slope of jungkook’s shoulder because he’s sick and tired of the boundaries between them, because his joy is so bright and ebullient tonight that he wants to let it out somehow. because he doesn’t know how to ask jungkook in. 

they half race back to the apartment, bags of snacks hanging from the handles of both of their bikes and namjoon feels wild by the time they get back home. 

he stops jungkook before he can punch in their door code and turns him around with his hand on his shoulder right where his mouth had been before. 

he presses his mouth - closed again, now - to jungkook’s cheek and then follows him inside, trying not to feel in this moment caged.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

at first, being a plant dad was the most stressful thing namjoon had ever in his life undertaken, willingly or not. 

he loved plants and flowers and it brought him a lot of joy to bring a piece of nature into his home, into his every single day, but having a lifeform’s survival depend entirely on him was somehow a brand new level of responsibility that namjoon had accidentally unlocked. 

there had been more than a few panicked moments in the early days; mornings when he’d startled awake at the blast of his alarm at 8am, totally confused and near frantic when he couldn’t remember what schedule he’d set it for until he remembered that he didn’t actually have anywhere to be, he just had plant children to feed. 

it’s rarer now, but there’s still times when he wakes up in a cold sweat at 2pm, having reminded himself subconsciously that he hadn’t watered his green babies last night because he’d collapsed into bed with jungkook but without the mental capacity to worry about anything besides not pulling jungkook too close too quick, not overstepping boundaries that he was no longer sure he wasn’t only imagining, anymore. 

for the most part, though, his botanical adventures have become the best kind of routine for him - one that he genuinely enjoys. 

this morning is a slow and quiet one, the calm before the storm of activities that will be heralded by the flurries of everyone arriving back after a few days off work and spent mostly with their families. 

jungkook had decided to stay here because both of his parents were busy with work and he’d wanted to use the time to work on editing and pulling together some bits and pieces from the material he’s shot lately. namjoon hadn’t really seen much point in going home again when he’d been there only weeks ago, and not at all because he and jungkook had been planning all along to elope the moment they got the chance, so hoseok can shut his mouth. 

as if jungkook would want to marry namjoon. 

as if namjoon would marry someone he hasn’t even kissed yet. 

it’s ludicrous, this newly widely accepted and now oft alluded to assertion that jungkook and namjoon were anything more than what they are - which is friends. close friends. colleagues who like each other a lot. really good friends who spend a healthy amount of time together and share an affinity for physical affection. people can change. maybe namjoon is turning over a new leaf. maybe this time next year he’ll be kissing all of them on the cheek. although if his relationship with them ever progresses that far, then his relationship with jungkook would be - 

that doesn’t bear thinking about. they’re never going to get there. it’s jungkook. it’s just jungkook and namjoon is just namjoon. 

having the place to themselves had only been so nice because of the peace and quiet. if they lived together - the two of them, alone - it probably wouldn’t even be like this. there’s no point whatsoever in drawing any kind of comparisons or dwelling on thoughts of how namjoon would want their home to be, if it was his and jungkook’s. 

it simply makes a nice change to be able to potter around without the constant comings and goings of seven people, is all. it was just kind of cool being able to fall asleep every night - sometimes in jungkook’s bed and sometimes in namjoon’s, but always together - and never having to worry about when someone was going to sit them down for a serious conversation about that. 

it’s maybe been the best break namjoon can ever remember having. 

this morning, namjoon has been padding from window box to plant pot to hanging planter saying ‘good morning’ to everyone, petting their stems and pausing to stoop and drop kisses to their leaves, sometimes. he knows even before he posts the picture to his very secret, very illicit instagram account that jimin is going to give him a ton of shit for the artsy shots he takes of his new galvanised metal watering can and he takes a moment to pre-emptively not give a fuck about that.

responding to the shutter snap like it’s a siren call designed specifically to attract him, jungkook appears. his face is still puffy from sleep, creased from where he’d turned to lie on his own arm when namjoon had gently lifted his head to pull his own arm free, a little while ago. he shuffles to namjoon’s side and kisses him blindly, his eyes mostly closed and his nose finding the curve of namjoon’s jaw like there’s a magnetic pull drawing the two together. 

“g’morning rapmon hyung,” he rumbles, his voice low and close and namjoon closes his eyes - not against the sight or sound of him, but to immerse himself, if only for a moment, in the thought of a thousand more mornings just like this one, framed the same but filled out differently, full to bursting with the possibilities that sparkle and glitter at namjoon from the furthest corners of his mind. 

“good morning ‘guk,” namjoon says, opening his eyes to the bright, early morning light and steadying himself on his feet so he doesn’t forget himself and step forward towards jungkook. 

it’s a wasted effort. a total lost cause, in the end, because taehyung’s arrival is announced then by yeontan hurling himself at namjoon’s bare calves like a furry missile, the warning click of his nails on the hardwood floor far too fast and frantic to serve any kind of purpose at all. 

“oof,” namjoon says, the breath knocked clear out of him when he falls forward and jungkook - the absolute fool - catches him. generally this wouldn’t be a controversial thing for jungkook or anyone else to do in this situation, but specific to the fact that namjoon isn’t wearing a shirt and neither is jungkook, namjoon deems this entire happenstance an absolute disaster. and he’s thinking that even before he shifts against jungkook and accidentally brushes their nipples together. 

“oh fuck,” jungkook says, mostly under his breath, low and disbelieving, and namjoon really couldn’t agree more. 

‘fuck’ he thinks in his head, very loudly and with an extra added echo, when he tries to step back and jungkook doesn’t let him. 

‘FUCK’ he thinks, all in capital letters and with an accompanying chorus composed entirely of wailing sirens when the squeak of taehyung’s suitcase wheels gets louder and then goes completely, terrifyingly silent. 

“well, fuck,” is taehyung’s greeting, “in front of the kids? seriously? you animals.” 

namjoon, still being clutched tight to jungkook’s bare chest, closes his eyes and wonders if he were to die right here and now, just like this, if his death notice would say he lived a short but fulfilling life and died doing what he loved most. 

someone else’s camera shutter snaps softly across the room and namjoon knows that if taehyung had anything to do with it, his death notice would just be a looped gif of that moment when namjoon had tried to rip jungkook’s shirt off right on stage. 

finally seeming to realize that his hands pressing hard into namjoon’s shoulderblades are no longer necessary and also almost set to bruise, jungkook lets go and steps back like the spirit of hoseok just appeared to tell him he’s got his placing wrong. 

“oh, sorry. sorry, hyung,” jungkook says, not looking at namjoon. he folds his hands behind his back like he’s putting them in time out and bites down on his own bottom lip like it’s some kind of punishment. and it is, but just for namjoon, because he looks at jungkook’s mouth and thinks about how many times it’s been pressed to his face and neck, thinks about how the softness of it makes his fingers tingle, makes him want to touch. 

so now namjoon’s standing in the living room without a shirt on, his nipples fully hard as he thinks about sticking his fingers in jungkook’s mouth and taehyung’s eyes boring a hole in the side of his face, jungkook’s eyes doing the same to ‘seonwoo,’ namjoon’s oldest and smallest offspring. the only sound is that of yeontan lapping at the water that’s spilling out of the watering can namjoon had dropped when he’d found himself mostly naked with an equally mostly naked jungkook but tragically, cursedly more vertical than he’d have hoped, if he ever let himself imagine this moment. 

“this isn’t in any way what you think it was,” namjoon tells taehyung, careful to keep his tone mild so it doesn’t get frantic or disappointed instead. 

“of course,” taehyung says, calling yeontan to him with the click of his fingers and bending to scoop him up under one arm, his other hand groping for the handle of his suitcase again. “whatever you say, hyung. my rates aren’t exactly the same as yours, but they’re negotiable. email me your opening offer and we’ll talk.” 

and then he’s gone, and jungkook is finally looking at namjoon again, and it’s because fucking taehyung just made it common knowledge that namjoon does have a price after all. 

great. 

just fucking wonderful. 

jungkook’s expression is openly, actively wondering and namjoon has to really work to resist the urge to cover his nipples protectively. 

the clatter of more suitcases and a cacophony of voices saves namjoon’s day, or maybe his entire life. 

“we’re back and badder than ever,” hoseok announces as he bursts into view, a riot of clashing colours as usual, and under any other circumstance namjoon would be at least mildly distressed by how seokjin and jimin both instantly and wordlessly slide into the ‘team rocket’ pose, framing hoseok. but given today and this trainwreck of a situation and also the regrettable fact that namjoon’s nipples are still fucking hard, he gives that whole thing a pass. 

“thank god,” he says, opening his arms and feeling nothing but loving gratitude for seokjin when he only pauses for a split second before walking right into them. 

“so you finally learned how to appropriately appreciate me while i was gone, huh? what an unexpected but welcome surprise, joon-ah.” 

namjoon digs his chin into seokjin’s shoulder and he’s not even trying to hurt him, he’s just trying to burrow into his body and maybe hide there forever. 

when he pulls back, jungkook has disappeared and his watering can has been righted and placed back into its spot on the windowsill. 

“did you two have a lovers spat?” seokjin asks, frowning down the hall in the direction of jungkook’s room but still patting at namjoon’s arm because once namjoon lets him into his space, he’s always slow to leave again. 

“we’re not lovers,” namjoon says, because he doesn’t know how to say ‘no, actually what happened was that the fates as they operate through yeontan’s poor spatial awareness decided to make me and jungkook touch nipples in front of our plant children this morning and i haven’t even had breakfast yet, don’t you think that’s entirely indecent? don’t you think that’s just far too much for me to have to deal with on an empty stomach?’ 

“okay, juliet,” seokjin agrees far, far too easily, like this is a comparison that he’s already comfortable with and set on. “want to see the present hyung bought for you?” 

“yes please, hyung,” namjoon says, feeling glum now for absolutely no reason. 

“come,” seokjin says, already tugging namjoon away with his hand around his wrist, talking excitedly about the things his mother had packed for them all. 

for the first time in a long time, namjoon finds himself nothing but relieved to be drawn in a direction that’s away from instead of towards jungkook.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

two days later, namjoon wipes at sauce that’s smeared under jungkook’s mouth with the pad of his thumb, not even thinking before he does it. 

when jungkook licks namjoon’s thumb clean before he can pull away and without looking at him, without even pausing in whatever he’s saying to yoongi - who also doesn’t in any way acknowledge what has just happened - namjoon wonders if he ever actually does any thinking at all. 

thinking is usually associated with intelligence and namjoon knows he has a decently high iq but he also knows that that doesn’t actually mean all that much at all, especially when you take into account just how out of control his life has become lately. smart people who think a lot would never find themselves in a position such as this, namjoon suspects. maybe what he has always thought of as ‘thinking’ has this entire time just been some kind of mind-specific white noise; just his brain tossing out words and cycling through them at random. that would certainly explain why namjoon’s ‘thoughts’ lately heavily feature a couple of words in particular; things like ‘jungkook’ and also ‘jungkook’ and sometimes ‘jungkook’, but only when his internal monologue takes a break from just being the word ‘jungkook’ on a loop. 

four days later, when jungkook wakes up from a nightmare and pouts at namjoon with both of his hands fisted in the thin material of namjoon’s sleep shirt and his eyelashes still slowing from their frantic flutter, namjoon’s traitorous mind adds the words ‘put’, ‘your’, ‘mouth’, ‘on’, ‘his’, and ‘mouth’ to its repertoire and namjoon actually whimpers out loud. jungkook asks him if he had a nightmare too, and then apologizes if his nightmare somehow seeped into the pillow they’re sharing and creeped across it to get to namjoon too. exactly none of this helps namjoon not want to kiss him. 

the day after that, namjoon is trying to train his brain with a very complex unit of the TOEIC handbook, all of his fingers employed as bookmarks for different sections he’s still testing himself on, when jungkook comes to sit next to him and bends forward to press a kiss to each and every single one of namjoon’s knuckles. 

“jungkook,” namjoon says, shocked and panicking and it’s almost strange to hear himself say it out loud - to voice it, now - when he’s become so used to hearing it said to sound a million different ways, but only in his head. 

“yes, hyung?” jungkook looks up at him, wild-eyed and sounding for some reason breathless. 

namjoon breathes in hard through his nose and then slowly out through his mouth. 

“nothing,” he lies, flexing his hand until all of his fingers fall free of their papery prison and he can toss the book away from him, throwing it down onto the coffee table. he doesn’t mean to, but he can’t deny that it makes him feel better when his hand goes looking for jungkook’s, finding it trying to hide between the side of his thigh and the couch cushions. 

“it’s nothing,” he says, when what he means is that he’s terrified now that there’s no more denying that it is very definitely, very much something.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

all the other acts have either already left or are at least wrapping up and readying themselves to head out by the time they’re on their way to the studio to start pre-recording today’s stage. 

sometimes, namjoon kind of misses the camaraderie of being in the trenches with all the other rookie groups, fighting to stay relevant three and four and five years into a career that feels like it could end abruptly any day now. obviously that specific part of those times had sucked, but namjoon had had a very different sense of ‘the industry’ as he’d experienced it then, compared to how he views it now and there are parts of that that he finds himself longing for, sometimes. 

the more people pay attention to them, the more they’re asked about their process, the further the gap between them and other groups under other companies seems to get. there are groups at the beginning of their careers now that have something like the kind of creative freedom that bts had had when they were starting out ( if not the same level of creative responsibility ) and namjoon wishes that had been true for them when they’d begun. he thinks he’d liked to have had peers in that sense, when they’d started out. namjoon understands how their industry works, he knows it has changed and is still changing largely for the better, but the application of uniformity where individuality should be encouraged in the artist and the supplication of precision for authenticity still makes the methods and work of others in their field feel very alien to him, sometimes. it makes him feel removed in a way that seems like it’s own very special kind of loneliness. 

it’s maybe that - the sense of distance - that gets to namjoon the most. 

he very often feels very far away from other artists they share this industry with not only creatively, but also physically these days too, and there was a time when he’d longed for that, but not like this. he doesn’t miss going on shitty variety shows that did everything they could to mock and belittle them for publicity, for laughs, but he misses appearing alongside other idol groups. he misses the friends they’d made who have moved on. it’s better, doing run! themselves, starting weverse and making it known without ever actually getting into it that as far as big hit and bangtan are concerned, jtbc, mbc and naver and v-live by extension can go fuck themselves unless there’s something they can do for them entirely on their terms. but it also means - however necessary - that they’re isolated from other artists. 

it’s not a diss when news articles and tv show hosts talk about bts like they’re leading the global music scene, but it draws a line between them and everyone else in the k-pop industry. namjoon can’t really talk about that with anyone outside of the group without sounding and feeling like a dick, when they’re put on a pedestal because they so far outsell everybody else, and because they break records set twenty years ago. because they top itunes charts in countries they’d previously never even heard of, because it no longer even works in a purely mathematical sense to try and compare anyone else’s success to theirs. 

they’re at a highpoint in their careers that they never knew to hope for, that they didn’t know was a dream they could have, because no one else had achieved it before them, had achieved it ever before. the ceiling - if it even exists for them - is made of glass. 

but they are very much on display, now. they are treated like something - not someones - constantly available and intended for public consumption, and that’s unpleasant and unnerving in a myriad of ways. 

it is quite literally above all else, very lonely at the top. 

they’ve all got friends in various creative fields, plenty of them musicians themselves, but friendship for namjoon seems to work slightly differently than it does for the rest of them. he enjoys and maintains his friendships outside of the group, but he can never throw himself into them completely or whole-heartedly. though the others always come back to bangtan, namjoon feels like he never really ever truly leaves. 

it’s while namjoon is lost in these very philosophical musings while their car is stuck in traffic that his phone hums in his pocket.

jackson  
  
eyyy look out the window!!!!!  
  


alarmed, namjoon immediately does, and finds that their car is alongside one of got7’s, though they’re headed in the other direction, and jackson has rolled his window right down to stick his head all the way out of it. an arm appears alongside it to start waving enthusiastically before namjoon has his window even halfway down. 

“rapmon!!” jackson yells, even though their cars are barely three feet apart. “it’s been months, man, how are you? it’s good to see your beautiful face!” 

they message a bit and call sometimes, but their schedules haven’t allowed them a chance to meet up lately and namjoon is sad about that. namjoon is sad about a lot of things today, it seems like. 

“i’m good,” namjoon says, smiling at how jackson rests both his arms on the edge of the window and pillows his head on them, settling in to talk for as long as they can. “what’s new with you guys?” 

by the time their cars pull away from one another - jackson’s driving off first, leaving namjoon still stuck in place in a way that feels pointed, a glaring message from the forces at work in the universe - namjoon feels both slightly better and a whole lot worse. thanks to seoul’s rush hour traffic, they’ve had almost fifteen minutes to lie along the seams of their respective windows and catch up, to chat about nothing and everything all at once. they repeat themselves, telling each other things that they’ve already told one another over kkt or on the phone, but it’s different like this - it’s so much better, face to face. everything jackson says - even in text - has a lot of expression packed into it, but it’s a joy to see his face light up with what he says, to see his mouth fall open in slack-jawed shock at some of the things namjoon tells him in turn. jackson reaches out into the space between them to periodically high five namjoon, to offer him his fist to bump, and their handshake when they’re set to go their separate ways is lingering on both of their parts. namjoon loves jackson and he thinks he’s not the only one who is reminded keenly, then, just how much he has missed this. 

hoseok has been frowning and laughing at his phone in turn in between leaning over to interject his thoughts into namjoon and jackson’s conversation and snapping photos that no doubt once again showcase namjoon’s confused side-eye, though this time set against a broadly grinning jackson who is throwing up peace signs with both hands. 

when namjoon closes his window and settles back into his seat, hoseok locks his phone and drops it into his lap, turning to face namjoon. 

“you finished flirting?” he says, and namjoon chokes on the throat lozenge he almost swallows in shock. “your life partner is quietly losing his mind in the car behind us and definitely saw all of that, in case you were wondering.” 

namjoon doesn’t say anything, because there’s nothing to say. jungkook isn’t his life partner. and even if he was, namjoon is allowed to have friends. jungkook is friends with jackson’s friends and friends with him himself by extension. their groups have always been close, hoseok is being ridiculous. he must be really bored, if this is the kind of drama he’s imagining, and namjoon knows there’s nothing malicious about it, but he finds himself annoyed by it, anway. 

he knows jungkook wouldn’t get jealous, not over him, and that’s what really annoys him; for reasons that he can’t quite put his finger on but can’t shake either. 

so now he’s annoyed and he’s sad and his throat hurts from half hacking a lung up so he didn’t accidentally ingest a lozenge the size of a small dinner plate instead. even though his contacts went in fine this morning, today is just an off day, it seems. and it’s not like he’s never had to work through those, before, so namjoon has no choice but to suck it the fuck up. 

as soon as they pull up into the underground parking lot, namjoon wonders if whatever he’s feeling is universal in nature, related to the activities of the moon or the planets or something somehow cosmic maybe, because when the car behind namjoon and hoseok’s parks, jungkook is throwing himself out of it almost before it’s completely rolled to a stop. he launches himself at namjoon like he’s trying to tackle him to the floor from behind, only very, very gently. by wrapping his arms around namjoon’s neck and pushing namjoon’s messenger bag to lie against his hip so jungkook can press his chest right up against namjoon’s back. he clings to namjoon the whole way into the building, and all the way through their hair, make-up and prep too. namjoon can’t say he minds, but it’s different, the way jungkook is touching him today. there’s an undercurrent to it that namjoon has never found in the way they touch before and he doesn’t know what to do with it or what to make of it so he simply accepts it. 

he’s always found it easy to accept anything that jungkook wants to give him. it’s his natural inclination to refuse things, to wonder why someone wants him to have it, what they might expect from him in return, but he never thinks twice when it’s jungkook that’s offering. if it’s from jungkook, namjoon always wants it. so when jungkook wants to wrap himself around namjoon, namjoon stands as tall and as still as he possibly can and tries not to offer his hands to jungkook as a foothold, tries not to make it so obvious that he’d pull his own ribcage apart for jungkook; not to try and trap him inside it, but to let what namjoon keeps inside it _out_. 

namjoon sits in the middle of couches, stands in quiet corners just big enough to comfortably fit two. he doesn’t offer jungkook his hand until jungkook reaches for it, and when jungkook drapes himself against namjoon or sits next to him to sling his thigh up over namjoon’s knee, namjoon quietly marvels at how it can be that by doing exactly what he wants for once, he doesn’t even feel a little bit like he’s doing anything wrong. 

they film a couple of different things, an intro and their greeting and then they’re directed to sit huddled up on tiny couch to react to some of the performances by other groups, and this is more like it, namjoon thinks, when jungkook knocks his knee against his and hides their joined hands under a cushion. 

when they react to got7’s performance, namjoon is able to honestly compliment their track and jackson’s rapping and yoongi even joins in to do an impression of him that’s truly hilarious. namjoon is wiping tears from his eyes when he leans back in against jungkook, and jungkook’s arms are crossed now but he doesn’t push namjoon off or move away. they all rave about ending fairy jackson and it’s fun, it’s funny, and namjoon is smiling easily for the first time today when they get up to go back to their dressing room for touch-ups before they film their stage. 

it’s then, that jungkook grabs namjoon by the wrist and tugs until he’s sure he’s got his full attention. the rest of the group go on without them, not looking back once or seeming to even notice that they’re not there. 

“did you mean that?” jungkook almost demands, and namjoon is totally lost. 

“did i mean what?” he asks, and he’s startled by how upset jungkook seems, something closer to panicked by how set and solemn his face is. namjoon hasn’t seen him look like this in a really long time. namjoon has never seen jungkook look at him like this maybe ever. 

“what you said back there. about jackson. your ‘so handsome’, buff, english speaking best friend jackson who raps so well and has such nice eyebrows,” jungkook is emphasising his words in a way that namjoon can’t keep up with because he’s speaking so quickly and his mouth twists around every ‘jackson’ he says like the very term tastes unpleasant to him. “are you two going on a date after this or was hanging out your car windows in public to kiss each other goodbye enough to satisfy you for today?” 

namjoon stares. 

and then he starts to laugh. 

it’s then that jungkook tries to walk away, his face crumpling, almost worked up to running before namjoon reverses their positions and tugs jungkook back towards him by his wrist. he wants jungkook close. he always wants jungkook close, but now that he’s looking at namjoon with poorly concealed anger all over his face and petulance clear in every line of his body because he’s _jealous_ , namjoon almost can’t bear how badly he needs to get jungkook as close to him as he can possibly be. 

“jungkook. ‘guk,” namjoon says, tugging again until jungkook comes even closer, not stopping until jungkook is in his arms. “jackson is my friend. just my friend. and not even my best friend, just a good friend.” he says all of this into jungkook’s hair, because jungkook won’t lift his face to look at him. when he lifts his hand into jungkook’s hair and still, jungkook refuses to look at him, he does something very dangerous indeed. he decides to be honest with jungkook, or as honest as he can afford to be with him here, in this moment. “and also,” he says, very quietly, “i did mean it when i said he was handsome. because he is.” jungkook tries to pull away, but namjoon keeps him close. “but he’s like … idol handsome. celebrity handsome.” 

“we’re all idol handsome, hyung,” jungkook says sulkily and he still won’t look at namjoon, but he’s stopped trying to run away, too. he’s not doing or saying anything at all now and namjoon can’t help but feel like what he says next is going to change everything and also like he can’t tell before he says it whether that will be for the better or for the worse. he can’t make himself care. 

“he’s just handsome, jungkook,” namjoon’s voice isn’t just soft now, it’s solemn too, “but you’re beautiful. you’re handsome and you’re beautiful and sometimes i look at you the way the whole world does, i think - like you’re the brightest star in the sky.” 

jungkook steps back a little, but his hands lock around namjoon’s wrists instead of around one another, now. he looks down when he speaks, his hair hiding most of his face from namjoon’s view. 

“you do?” he asks quietly, and it shatters a crack right through namjoon’s heart, how uncertain he sounds. how small his voice is, when namjoon is used to hearing it soar. 

“i do, ‘guk. i really, really do,” namjoon says, emphasising his answer to this question instead of offering up any more answers to questions that jungkook hasn’t asked, because he could, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to. 

“but i’m not in the sky, hyung,” jungkook says, lifting his eyes to namjoon’s, his mouth drawn carefully and his cheeks flushed with something, “i’m right here. i’m right next to you.” 

he’s not running away. namjoon told him something true, and he’s never lied to jungkook, but he doesn’t always tell him all of the truth. not lately. not yet, he finds himself thinking now. because he was honest with jungkook in a way that’s new and still mildly terrifying for that fact alone, but jungkook isn’t running way. 

jungkook takes a step closer, even though there was barely any space remaining between them to begin with. 

“hyung,” he says, something molten in that word, something in namjoon waking up for it, and then his fingers are sliding up under the lapels of namjoon’s jacket, the palms of his hands are warm on namjoon’s chest even through his clothes and he is all of a sudden very close, he’s leaning forward, leaning in, and then - 

“yah!” hoseok yells from the top of the corridor, and they spring apart like their magnetic poles just got in a single instant completely reversed, repelling them from one another when they’re usually - always - drawn together. “are you two coming, or?” 

honestly, namjoon had forgotten they had a performance to do. he’d definitely forgotten where they were, looking around in new shock now but calming down when he sees that besides the three of them, this corridor is deserted. it’s fine. 

it’s not like anything had happened, anyway. 

jungkook is already halfway to hoseok by the time namjoon starts moving, and he’s out of sight when namjoon gets to hoseok’s side and flicks him in the forehead, the satisfying sound of it making him feel better, but not much. 

“thanks for ruining what was maybe about to become the best day of my life, hobi,” he says, and hoseok must think he’s joking, because his only response is loud and ringing cackles. 

jungkook stays close by in every break they get for the rest of the night, even takes a running leap at namjoon’s back at one point and refuses to climb down off him until namjoon does a lap of the room just like that. the charge between them has changed - more intense than it had been before, but not even a little bit combative or in any warring. earlier on they were all static, a volatile reaction waiting to happen even though namjoon hadn’t understand that, hadn’t seen it coming. 

and now, they don’t talk. not really. not about what did or didn’t happen in the corridor. not about what namjoon said, either. but there is no tension between them, though namjoon feels like he’s full to bursting with it, feels like he’s electrifying the air around him with how his skin feels charged, sparked with potential. 

something has shifted, tectonic plates bumping up against each other and starting to rise, their metamorphosis having always been inevitable but the process of what they’re set to build only beginning now. here, like this. 

when jungkook shows up to give namjoon his goodnight kiss, he cups namjoon’s face in both of his hands and lifts up onto his toes, his nose brushing against namjoon’s mouth before he presses his mouth to namjoon’s forehead. 

“just so you know, hyung, i think you’re the hottest person on the face of this planet. and probably at least a few of the others, too,” he says, and then he’s gone. 

like, he leaves. 

and though namjoon waits, he doesn’t come back. 

namjoon falls asleep alone that night, more confused than he’s been in a long, long time. 

even so, he goes to sleep happy.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

jungkook gets hit on a lot. 

like, kind of a distressing amount. 

namjoon has always fretted about it; was protective of jungkook at first and then protective and outraged. for a while he was really sad about it, and then he got sad and angry about it. lately, he’s mostly resigned to it, well used to it by now, and it helps a lot that he can remind himself, in the tougher moments, how sentimental jungkook is. how he’s always maintained that whoever he dates will be his best friend, first. 

the guy selling ice cream outside this museum seems pretty set on making friends with jungkook. 

he’s been holding jungkook and namjoon’s ice creams hostage for almost two full minutes now, and namjoon can see from twenty feet away that their cones are starting to drip. the guy that’s serving them doesn’t seem to be faring all that much better. tragically, namjoon can relate. 

when jungkook finally starts to make his way back, two ice creams in hand and a piece of paper tucked hastily and carelessly into his pocket, his face is flushed in what namjoon recognizes as a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. 

“so you probably saw that, huh hyung,” he says, handing namjoon’s cone off to him and then pulling his mask off of one ear so he can dip in close and lick away the drip of ice cream that instantly falls down across namjoon’s knuckles. namjoon would stress about jungkook licking him public, but it’s very late at night and the few people who are still milling around outside the museum are all much older than them and entirely uninterested in who they are or what they’re doing. so namjoon’s free to just stress about jungkook licking him. a light load today, only the exact opposite of that too, probably. namjoon can’t be sure yet. 

“what? another unsuspecting member of the general public ready to risk it all for you? mhmm. we all saw that spectacular display, jungkook,” namjoon gestures expansively at the five or so people in their vicinity like they’re a rabid crowd, just to make jungkook laugh. and wonderfully, it works. 

“hyung,” he whines, still smiling as he bites his ice cream, because he’s probably a serial killer but even that wouldn’t change the way namjoon feels about him at this point, “i have a mask on. he couldn’t even see most of my face. i don’t even understand.” 

namjoon laughs at him, but it’s not unkind. it’s just that he understands. too well. 

“you can still see your eyes, ‘guk,” namjoon tells him, wondering how to gently break the news to him that every single inch of his face is something that should be in the museum behind them, in namjoon’s opinion, “plus, i’m not sure how to tell you this, but your body is also kind of … ” namjoon grasps for another way to say ‘insanely attractive’ and what he comes up with is - “ … not bad?” 

this time it’s jungkook that laughs at namjoon, and he can’t say that it’s entirely kind. he also can’t say he can really blame jungkook, though. he’s kind of a disaster. he’s made peace with it. 

when jungkook tosses the napkins from their cones into the trash, the piece of paper with that guy’s phone number on it goes with them. 

when they get home, yoongi asks them how their date was and they both say “great!” in unison and then grin at each other until yoongi pretends to retch, and then they go to grin at each other in the privacy of one of their bedrooms. 

namjoon’s never really noticed, never really thought about it before, but as he follows jungkook to his room tonight, he realizes that he only ever sleeps here when they’re all about to crash, when namjoon is dead on his feet and can’t overthink it or second guess himself when jungkook leads him this way. 

now, he’s thinking about. now he’s all of a sudden questioning more than just that. 

“hey,” he says, whipping his tshirt gently at jungkook’s chest when he pulls it off, “can i ask you something?” 

being honest with jungkook had worked pretty well for namjoon, until it didn’t. and even then, that had been because of the fates intervening through hoseok’s horrific sense of timing. not because of anything either of them did. namjoon finds himself wondering what the fates might offer up now if he invites jungkook to be honest with him, in return. 

“sure, babe,” jungkook says absentmindedly, english words slipping into his vocabulary more often and much more easily, these days. he’s shirtless too now, bent over in just his briefs so he can pick up the pants he’s just stepped out of and when he starts to fold them before he puts them in his laundry basket, namjoon isn’t surprised but he is kind of half hard in his boxers. weird. 

he gulps. 

“is it - would it be okay if i slept here? with you?” 

jungkook looks at him in absolute bafflement. 

but after a second, when namjoon doesn’t say anything else, when he just keeps standing there, his eyes on jungkook’s and his face as serious as he can make it when he’s fighting off an untimely boner, jungkook seems to get it. he looks at namjoon in some soft seeming kind of wonder, and it makes namjoon think - absurdly - that even the folds of his brain must be pretty, are probably pink and shining and stupidly, beautifully neat and fascinatingly patterned. 

“oh,” jungkook says, and namjoon wonders if he’ll ever be able to see jungkook’s mouth round out around a word again without thinking about touching it with the pads of his fingers, without thinking about what it would look like wet and tight and sucking around his knuckles. “you’re asking, hyung? you want to stay with me?” 

namjoon nods, surprisingly steady on his feet given that he’s trembling on the inside, his heart thumping, his mind buzzing, tension sparking in the tips of his fingers, energy pooling in the backs of his knees. he loves that jungkook gets it. he loves that jungkook sees so easily that namjoon is telling him something by asking - is trying to tell jungkook how big a deal it had been to him when jungkook asked - and showing jungkook that he’s just as big a deal to him. that he’s the biggest deal to namjoon. that he loves how easily and completely jungkook understands him. that he loves that they have this. that he loves - 

“yes, please. i want to stay with you, please,” he says, and when jungkook smiles at him it’s sharp enough to cut the two of them open, namjoon thinks. sharp enough to cut straight to the heart of all of this, which is them. the two of them, together. 

“okay, then,” jungkook says, accepting namjoon’s shirt when he folds it and passes it to jungkook to add to his unreasonably neat laundry, “since you asked so nicely, yeobo.” 

as soon as jungkook’s hands are free, he shoves namjoon down onto his bed, his palms on namjoon’s shoulders making him fall backwards onto the sheets and every expression his face makes has an edge to it, now, is different in a way that namjoon can’t quite figure out exactly but still finds that he really, really likes. he’s pretty sure he likes everything about jungkook pushing him down onto his bed and then following him down, looking for all the world like if namjoon hadn’t rolled out of the way in time, he’d just have crawled into bed right over him, right on top of him. he’s starting to think maybe he likes everything about jungkook. 

“yeobo,” namjoon murmurs, when they’re tucked up together, namjoon in jungkook’s arms tonight and jungkook’s knees folded up along the line of namjoon’s body to kiss the back of namjoon’s knees, their thighs touching and jungkook’s shins smooth and solid against namjoon’s calves. one of jungkook’s feet is pushed down between both of namjoon’s, and the feel of it - the wonderful reality of it - makes namjoon’s toes curl in pleasure, in pure satisfaction. 

“mm, hyung?” the sounds that rumble up out of jungkook’s chest are barely words, only almost form legible audible character blocks. 

“why did you sleep here last night?” namjoon doesn’t really want to ask, but that doesn’t do anything to change the fact that he needs to know. “why didn’t you stay with me when you came to kiss me goodnight?” 

if the way jungkook had responded to namjoon’s last question had been a slight indication of how close to sleep he is, the way he only brushes the tip of his nose against the side of namjoon’s throat and hums now is unnecessary but clear confirmation. 

namjoon doesn’t think he’s going to get an answer to his question. 

not tonight, at least, and that’s okay. 

but then jungkook smacks his lips together right next to namjoon’s ear, usually the last thing he does before he falls asleep and the first thing he does when he wakes up, and speaks lowly, slowly - 

“c’dn’t, hyung. di’n trust m’self,” he whispers, and then his forehead is warm and familiar at the top of namjoon’s spine and his breathing starts to slow against namjoon’s back. 

it takes a very long for sleep to find and take namjoon, that night.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

yoongi, jimin and namjoon are all waiting for jungkook to return from the rest room before their car can leave, but it’s only namjoon that jungkook messages.

sorry yeobo. there’s a line. i’ll be as fast as i can  
  


sure, they’re only waiting for him, but it’s not like they’re headed somewhere cool or fun, they’re just going to another schedule and they’re not late, so -

take your time, babe. there’s no rush.  
  


is too. and i will not  
  


i’ll be back in under a minute. i’m gonna reign supreme and victorious  
  


namjoon snorts as he reads that, and starts to laugh to himself as he replies.

kekeke i misread that as ‘victorian.’ i’m picturing you in a frilly collar kekekeke  
  


hey, i could have a frilly collar on rn, you don’t know. you left to take your call while i was still getting changed, remember?  
  


do you wanna know what i’m wearing, hyung?  
  


namjoon fumbles his phone, but catches it again before it can hit the ground. his hands are sweating all of a sudden. before he can stumble through a reply, jungkook sends another message.

there’s still a line, but there’s mirrors in the stalls here, want me to take a pic for you?  
  


namjoon’s whole soul leaves his body for a split second, he’s pretty sure. some part of him, something very important in him briefly ascends, at the very least. a minute ago he was kim namjoon, the proud leader of the biggest boy band in the world. now he’s kim namjoon, the proud leader of the biggest boy band in the world, but more importantly - someone who jeon jungkook (the world’s most good, most talented, most handsome boy) has maybe tried to sext. and that’s a hard maybe, but namjoon is a little hard in his jeans, so it all balances out or whatever. for once, namjoon is in absolute harmony with the planets, with the cosmos itself, and that makes a lot of sense, when you take into consideration that all the planets do is try to fuck with namjoon.

jungkook  
  


namjoon can’t say anything else. namjoon wants to say several other things, but he can’t - he absolutely cannot say any of them. plus, that one word kind of says it all, as is. that one word is all namjoon wants to say, sometimes. in a bunch of very creatively descriptive and evocative ways.

kekeke i’m kidding hyung. i’m already omw back  
  


when namjoon looks up from his phone, feeling kind of faint still after barely surviving his first serious cardiac event before the age of thirty, both yoongi and jimin are staring at him. it’s intense. it’s almost physically painful, actually. 

“yes?” he asks, although he really and truly doesn’t want to. he just wants the staring to end. he’ll do anything if it means the staring will end. he needs to go stare at himself in a mirror for a long time. he needs to never think about mirrors ever again in his life. that might make being an idol difficult. 

“oh we’re just judging you,” jimin says breezily, leaning a companionable elbow on yoongi’s shoulder. yoongi just folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head at namjoon. “like - do you think it’s at all strange that we’re all waiting for him, but he only texts you? or how about the way he texts you as soon as you’ve been out of one another’s sights for six full seconds? does that inspire any realizations in you, hyung?” 

“i’m the leader,” namjoon says, even though he doesn’t really think that that’s why jungkook is texting him, not totally, and they obviously agree. pretty vehemently. like, two swift kicks to namjoon’s now bruised shins kind of vehement. 

“i’m just surprised you let him go to the restroom by himself, honestly,” yoongi says, sighing, and namjoon opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it again. yoongi saw, though, so he lifts an eyebrow at namjoon, a wordless command to spit it out. 

“well it’s just …” namjoon tries to explain, doesn’t know why he feels compelled to. “he went with taehyung and sejin hyung. i wouldn’t have let him go alone.” 

when yoongi bends at the waist and pretends to puke into the garbage can next to him, jimin pats his back consolingly. 

“you’re both vile, and i want you to know i mean that from the bottom of my heart,” jimin says mildly, and namjoon - for some reason - feels oddly touched. 

when jungkook returns to namjoon’s side, almost but not quite trotting to get there, yoongi pretends to faint into jimin’s arms and jimin sniggers even as he’s half dragging yoongi into the car. 

“what’s with them?” jungkook asks, and namjoon fights the urge to cover his eyes and tell him to ignore the mean, jealous men. 

he reaches for jungkook’s hand instead, and smiles when jungkook laces their fingers together on the seat between them. and then scoots into that seat to sit next to namjoon and lifts their joined hands to rest between his thighs, instead. 

“i missed you, hyung,” he says, leaning in to put his chin on namjoon’s shoulder when he stretches to kiss him on the cheek. 

“you were gone for like five minutes,” namjoon says, but only to say something, grabbing blindly at the chance to say anything at all that isn’t ‘kiss me again. kiss me somewhere else.’ 

“a lot can happen in five minutes, hyung. i could do a whole lot in just five minutes,” jungkook says, and at the look that accompanies it renders namjoon incapable of saying anything at all. 

he holds on tight to jungkook’s hand and says and does a whole lot of nothing, because the alternative - all of the very alternative, wholly unacceptable things he wants to say and do - would end their careers. for starters. 

jungkook ends up napping for most of the drive home, his head still resting in against namjoon’s shoulder, and though namjoon is generally so fidgety that he doesn’t mind admitting himself that it’s almost torture to expect him to sit still for long periods of time, it’s nothing at all to slump a little in his seat so jungkook won’t get a crick in his neck. it costs him nothing to stay there, just like that; to stay still for jungkook, peaceful next to and content under him. feeling needed and special for that, honored that jungkook trusts him to hold him up. it takes no effort at all, to do that for jungkook. namjoon can and will do anything at all, if it’s for jungkook. 

“chagiya,” jungkook mumbles, his first word upon waking up and finding that they’re in the parking lot now, that they’ve arrived at their next schedule but namjoon had waved the others on ahead of them so jungkook could sleep just a little longer. 

“hmm?” namjoon asks, not knowing if jungkook means to ask him a question or was just calling for him, announcing once again who and what he was, to jungkook. he only replies because he wants jungkook to know that he’s listening. that he heard him. 

“will you marry me in our next lives, too?” 

even from namjoon’s peripheral vision, he can see that jungkook’s eyes are still closed. his hands are so warm around namjoon’s, and he hadn’t let him go while he slept, not once, not for a second. 

“of course,” namjoon tells him, swallowing around the lump in his throat as slowly and carefully as he can, still loathe to shift and disturb jungkook in any way. “of course i will.” 

he doesn’t ask about this lifetime. 

jungkook lifts his head from namjoon’s shoulder and stretches his neck, stretches his arms out in front of him still holding onto namjoon’s hand and then he just slumps back against namjoon’s side, warm and comfortable and languid, their bodies lining up and fitting together easily, instantly, perfectly. 

when jungkook tilts his head back for the kiss namjoon places just above the dip between his eyebrows, namjoon realizes he doesn’t have to ask anything at all. 

because the question is already there, right in front of him; at his side and in his bed and guiding namjoon into their bed with gentle hands. 

the question is at namjoon’s fingertips, at arm’s length usually, but not always and maybe not forever. 

today, the question has come closer than it’s ever been before. 

but it’s still not ready for namjoon to ask it, or maybe it’s namjoon that’s not ready for it to be asked. 

either way, it is not the time. 

not now. 

not yet. 

but soon, maybe. 

soon.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon doesn’t have the time to jerk off as much as he used to, anymore, and what’s worse is that he pretty rarely gets the opportunity to be as creative about it, either. 

when they were trainees still, namjoon had made touching himself an artform. 

they hadn’t had light workloads back then, but there was much more freedom within their schedules when they didn’t have any appearances to make yet, didn’t have tours to do or prepare for and as such could spend fifteen hours sweating through a dance practice, go home and spend a leisurely hour wringing pleasure from their bodies, nap for an hour and then move into the studio for the next two days. 

or, at least, that’s what namjoon had done. 

it was quick, easy and effective stress relief. 

it was for a long time the closest thing to a hobby that namjoon had had. 

for all that the rest of them liked to make fun of namjoon for his extensive porn collection back then and also to this very day, none of them had ever come to him with a request that he wasn’t fully equipped and prepared to meet. and they had come to him with their requests. every single one of them. 

jungkook had taken a few years to either work up the nerve or maybe just to reach the absolute ends of his patience; his sexual frustration winning out in the final showdown against his unwillingness to share his kinks with his group’s leader. either way, namjoon had only been grateful that it had taken so long. he’d kind of wished that he could have drafted someone else - like literally anyone else - in to explain to jungkook that ‘hyung porn’ wasn’t a thing, not strictly speaking, or not yet at least. but namjoon had battled through it, and he’d even managed to find a few things that he thought were close to what jungkook was looking for. he still doesn’t know who had been more surprised by that particular feat - him or jungkook. but jungkook had thanked him and gone on his merry way and that was that; another satisfied not-even-almost-a-customer. 

it’s been a few years now since namjoon first touched himself thinking about jungkook. 

and jungkook isn’t all that namjoon thinks about when he touches himself now, but. well. he makes up the lion’s share of namjoon’s recent repertoire and that’s not a totally new thing in and of itself alone, but the nature of his musings has changed recently in both intensity and fervour. 

another significant change has been how namjoon doesn’t _just_ think about jungkook, now. 

for namjoon, attraction has always been a visual thing first and foremost. the way someone sounds or smells or treats him or cares for the people around them will filter in to switch it up eventually, but right off the bat namjoon’s eyes are always drawn immediately to shapes. to the lines of someone. to how they move inside of those; what they choose to do with them. 

as a teenager, he’d been pretty fascinated by the first touch of his lines to someone else’s. he’d had a few trysts in high school, a few almost-relationships that had confused and frustrated him, but seemed like a worthwhile addition to his learning curve, nonetheless. he’s still friends with his first sort-of-boyfriend and even though that guy’s married now, it’s not weird. namjoon had gone to his wedding and doesn’t feel anything for him now because he hadn’t really felt much for him at the time. 

since then, dating has never been something that any of them could do without risks, without having to be creative and careful and constantly and on edge, and some of them had met people along the way that they’d felt strongly enough about to make all of that worth it, but namjoon had not. and he didn’t feel unfulfilled in that regard. he didn’t feel like there was something that he needed that he wasn’t getting. he didn’t feel like he was missing out on much. even when he saw the rest of them with the few significant others they’d had over the years and they’d seemed happy, namjoon had been happy for them too but those instances hadn’t inspired envy in him. he was happy too, just in different ways. he already had everything he needed. 

and a part of that - a fun part - was jerking off. just because namjoon didn’t feel the need to date didn’t mean he didn’t like the idea of his body pressed up against someone else’s. it was just that he’d already had six other bodies and entire teams of bodies besides already buzzing around his own, was always in an orbit that brought him into range of plenty of other people and he wasn’t lonely for companionship. he didn’t feel like he was half of something supposed to be larger, without a significant other. he had several very significant others right there next to him. 

namjoon has thought about all of his members at some point or another when he had a fist around his dick or his fingers coaxing himself open for something bigger and better. they’ve all got very nice lines, they’re visually appealing people across the board and aesthetic pleasure translates pretty straightforwardly into sexual satisfaction, for namjoon. 

so he hadn’t freaked out about it too much when the newly sharp curve of jungkook’s jaw had decided to take up residence in namjoon’s thoughts, parading loudly and proudly through the streets of them during his alone time especially. it had made sense to him, that as jungkook’s chest and shoulders filled out, so did namjoon’s dick. it’s downright cruel of jungkook, namjoon thinks, to ever talk about namjoon’s thighs when he’s standing or sitting there with what he’s got going on under his clothes. jungkook’s hands and wrists and forearms pretty quickly became fan favourites for namjoon - who liked to think that he was in fact jungkook’s biggest fan, if such a thing could be quantified or was ever measured based on how often you thought about someone while you were treating yourself to a solo date with some expensive and lovingly cared for sex toys. 

he’s never thought that that was strange, or cause for concern. 

but lately, he doesn’t just think about jungkook. he no longer finds himself picturing just his lines and the way he works them. 

lately, in snatched moments when he’s supposed to be asleep or needs to break his creative frustration somehow, any which way that works, namjoon finds himself thinking about how the lines of jungkook could work against the lines of him. how their edges could overlap. how they might cross some lines entirely, together. 

now, instead of thinking about the long and lovely line of jungkook’s back, namjoon finds himself tangled in a web of thoughts that all seem to center around the idea of getting jungkook on his back. on having jungkook like that, underneath him and all spread out for him. the whole gorgeous expanse of him, offered up freely to namjoon’s hands, given willingly to namjoon’s mouth and tongue and fingers to explore. to learn. to know. to please. to love. all he can think about is what jungkook might look like, when he comes. how he could look, if he let namjoon get him there. 

it’s the first time namjoon has himself featured in his own fantasies this way - almost from a third party point of view instead of solely as the vague, out of frame focus of them. now, jungkook is very much the focus and namjoon appears only as an addition. as the only addition namjoon ever wants to even imagine, when jungkook is in the equation. 

all of this makes it different; makes both the experience and the anticipation of it change until he finds himself looking forward to it in a way he never has before - sees him get downright impatient sometimes now to get himself up against a locked door or bent half over a sink to be alone with his thoughts of jungkook, with the stunning, incredible idea of them. 

those are the only times now when namjoon finds himself able to walk away from the reality of jungkook without looking back, without dragging his feet every single step of the way. 

it helps that namjoon knows by now what jungkook looks like and feels like against him, even if he only gets to enjoy that when he’s asleep or getting there. 

it really doesn’t help that namjoon knows by know what jungkook looks like and feelings like against him, because now it’s all he can think about. now just the brush of their hands can have him instantly excited to get home and lock himself in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, to think about all the other ways he and jungkook could brush against each other while jungkook himself is five feet away on namjoon’s bed and namjoon is trying to muffle his moans of jungkook’s name under the spray of a shower he’s not taking. 

now, namjoon is at the very least lowkey excited around jungkook all the fucking time; hype to be there, delighted to have jungkook at his side, awed that he wants to be there, amazed by the way jungkook’s brain works when he tells namjoon his thoughts, grateful for his help and advice when namjoon goes to him with his concerns and confusions but also - newly, wholly - lit up by and for his presence, his whole body buzzing with what happens to him when excitement and joy and admiration burn together for so long that they caramelize into want, boil over then into pure need. 

jungkook touches him a lot more, now. he kisses namjoon periodically through every day and that’s new too, but that was happening for a while before this changed. 

at first, jungkook getting closer to namjoon simply made him happy. it was surprising and exciting because it was brand new and thrilling for that. 

but now that the novelty has worn off, the shine of it all has been replaced by intensity. by something deeper and warmer and endless seeming, something that namjoon is slowly starting to realize has been there in him all along, but has grown much larger lately - has gotten a taste for jungkook’s touch and now found that tiny little bites aren’t enough anymore, that actually, in fact, it is a ravenous thing and maybe always has been but didn’t know the meaning of hunger well enough to recognize that before now. 

jungkook is there all the time these days, always at namjoon’s side, in all ways close. he’s giving namjoon more physical affection than he’s ever wanted or been able to accept before from anyone and everyone, and jungkook is doing all of that on his own. he never pushes namjoon away when he makes his clumsy attempts to return this attention either - only ever welcomes namjoon; pulls him in and holds him close, keeps him there until namjoon decides he should probably retreat again. 

it’s a beautiful and delicate kind of tug of war - a fight to give, rather than to take and they’re both gracious losers and humble, generous victors. 

jungkook gives and gives and gives and he accepts what namjoon offers him in return ( the whole of him, the sum of him - not dressed up or neatly labelled or prettily gift-wrapped - just balled up and tossed right at jungkook ) like it’s the best present he’s ever been given. 

there’s a non-linear, chaotic but equal balance to it all and in so many ways, it’s one of the most good and nerve-wracking and rewarding things namjoon has ever had a hand in. 

but that doesn’t stop namjoon from feeling like he might lose his mind, if he doesn’t get to put his hands on jungkook the way he wants. 

jungkook holds namjoon’s hand, kisses his forehead and then offers up his own cheek, sleeps most nights now with his head pillowed above namjoon’s heart and his fingers creeping inside namjoon’s clothes. 

and still, it is not enough. 

still, namjoon starves.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

jungkook and namjoon probably get an equal amount of shit from the rest of the group about the way they talk about one another in interviews. or namjoon would like to think that’s the case, at least. 

in reality and also in direct contrast to namjoon, jungkook mostly manages to keep his admiration within the boundaries of professionalism. for all the times that namjoon has had to listen to jungkook wax poetic about the profound affect his thighs had had on him during their first meeting, jungkook has always had a legitimate excuse to bring that up - because that really was how they met. though it doesn’t make sense to namjoon, that’s something that sticks out for jungkook as the beginning of something important in his career or life or whatever. he usually then goes on to talk about how much he’d admired namjoon and hadn’t thought twice about what company to sign with, once namjoon became part of the equation and that’s difficult to listen to in a different way, but it’s still relevant to the kinds of questions they get asked, strictly speaking. for the most part, jungkook doesn’t seem to struggle to stick to topics integral to their careers and central to their history as a group, even if he brings namjoon up in a way and to a degree that namjoon feels unworthy of but elated by anyway. 

namjoon, on the other hand, pretty often finds himself playing catch up with his own tongue after it has responded to literally any mention of jungkook’s body like those words were the bang of a starter pistol and this is the race of his tongue’s life. 

he’s so used to it by now that he’s not even all that embarrassed by it anymore. he hams it up when the others mercilessly tease him about it afterwards, pretends to be shocked and mortified by his own actions, but that’s only because he likes to make them happy. he’s beyond embarrassment at this point. jungkook looks the way he does and namjoon is, at the heart of it, just a boy. it is what it is. 

but then namjoon starts working out a little more, lifting a little heavier because his diet and his workouts and the planets come together in some specific and probably cursed way that means he accidentally packs on some muscle and namjoon decides that he likes that. 

jungkook’s reaction to it can’t really be described on that same scale at all. 

his doodles of namjoon have all been completely reimagined, his figure something like the kind of shoulder gangster they all draw seokjin to be, only rounded out with muscle instead of purposefully pointed to make fun of how bony seokjin is. 

a couple of interviewers ask them if jungkook is helping namjoon train because he talks about namjoon’s gym attendance these days like it’s something that he’s personally proud of, more enthusiastic about namjoon’s body than he is about literally anything else they’re asked. and maybe being asked that gives him ideas. gives him notions, because now every time namjoon comes back from the gym, jungkook insists on either ‘tracking his progress’ ( by feeling namjoon up over his clothes ) or making namjoon take his shirt off and flex for him. and none of this makes namjoon feel anything other than wholly incentivized to keep working out, but it still seems excessive to him that someone who looks like jungkook and on top of all of that, is in fact jeon jungkook himself, would find anything about a body like namjoon’s that impressive or praise-worthy. 

“yeah, oh, that’s -” there’s a strange almost choking sound and when namjoon looks up from where both he and jungkook have been admiring the progress he’s been making on his pecs - he can make them bounce up and down independently of one another now and he’s proud as hell of that - jungkook is spitting a ring that he was definitely wearing a minute ago back out into the palm of his hand and is so red in the face that namjoon instantly drops both his tiddies to reach out and touch jungkook’s forehead. 

“are you getting sick? why are you shivering? we need to take your temperature,” namjoon reaches for his shirt, about to pull it back on and then go ask yoongi where they keep the medical kit these days, but jungkook yanks the shirt out of namjoon’s hand and throws it across the room. if namjoon hadn’t been certain that jungkook wasn’t well, he definitely is now. he just tossed clothes on the floor. 

namjoon’s panic at the thought of a sick and clearly suffering jungkook quickly becomes an entirely different kind of panic, though, when jungkook puts his hands up over the sides of namjoon’s ribcage and pulls him in so jungkook can push his face into his chest. like, right into the still kind of sweaty space between namjoon’s pecs. 

“i am sick, hyung,” jungkook says, with his mouth pressed to namjoon’s skin so that namjoon can feel just how much tongue jungkook is putting behind those words, “i’m a very sick boy, and i’m - um - uhhn - uh. cold. whatever. so keep me warm, hyung. i’m entitled to half your body heat under marital law, so gimme. i want what’s mine, yeobo.” 

and it’s both the simplest and most difficult thing namjoon has ever done, to let his hands slide up over the lines of jungkook’s shoulder and then skate over the bare skin of the back of his neck, one hand staying right there - anchoring namjoon’s hold, staking namjoon’s claim on jungkook - while the other hand lifts up into jungkook’s hair and gently cups the curve of his skull, so very carefully holds jungkook right where he is, against namjoon. 

when they’re climbing into bed together that night, jungkook throws both of their shirts across the room like they’ve personally insulted him and namjoon feels kind of like he’s just watched his own sentience sail through the air right alongside them to land in a heap next to but not in the laundry hamper. 

in his sleep, jungkook tugs at namjoon’s boxers and namjoon has to roll all the way across the bed from him on two separate occasions. 

when he wakes up for real, jungkook is already frowning at him from across the sheets - an ocean between them that’s sprung up overnight, because they always wake up in one another’s arms one way or another and jungkook is clearly incredibly offended that that is not the case today. 

“better. mine,” jungkook says, nonsensical and drowsy, dreamy sounding, when namjoon scoots over to meet him in the middle of the bed and is greeted with the whole of jungkook, long and lean and beautiful and intent on wrapping himself around namjoon every which way he can, even first thing in the morning when they both have morning breath and namjoon still can’t fully open his eyes yet. 

jungkook’s hands settle low on namjoon’s back, his fingers spread like bridges to cross the gap between the dimples in namjoon’s lower back and the waistband of his boxers. only slightly and very gently, jungkook tugs at them again, definitely awake this time, and namjoon rolls back across the bed, right up off of it and instantly to his feet so he doesn’t do something incredibly ill advised that he knows to his bones he’d enjoy every second of, nonetheless. 

“up and at them, jungkook,” namjoon says, hoping a very aged simpsons reference will draw this morning into the much safer, much more pg-13 territory of bad humour, rather than the nose dive it had been about to take into pure molten sexual frustration instead. 

“that’s exactly what i was trying to do,” jungkook grumbles as he launches himself off the bed and towards the bathroom at a lurching half-run. he doesn’t mean it the way namjoon hears it, but that does absolutely nothing to stop namjoon’s brain from taking a very dark turn indeed. on two wheels. at high speed. 

“i’m gonna shower in my room!” he calls, hoping that jungkook hears him through the closed bathroom door, but the only response he gets is a muffled thud and what sounds to him like the pipes groaning. 

he should probably tell someone about that. 

and he will. 

right after he fucks himself weak-kneed at the thought of telling jungkook just how much he’d like jungkook to fuck him, instead. 

because priorities - namjoon has them. 

a handle on his life or grip on his sanity? yeah, those two not so much.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

all of rapline are gathered in hoseok’s studio because that’s where they’d decided to convene after a video call with a western artist that wanted them to produce and feature on a track with them. they’d insisted on hiring their own interpreter to facilitate the conversation and there was a lot that namjoon could say directly to them, but it was both strange and strangely pleasant to sit back then and let the interpreter relay what he’d just said to his own members. he interjects a couple of times to clarify something, or to suggest a different word choice, but by and large it goes smoothly and namjoon is already feeling good about this collab. 

he ends the call only mildly stressed by two pretty minor things - firstly, how he’s going to break it to jungkook that their next collab project isn’t going to be with ariana ( not quite yet, at least, but namjoon is still working on it. he’s doing his best. he’s doing the most, honestly ) and secondly, how to most accurately translate to jimin that megan thee stallion both knows who he is and called him a “savage,” and that this is in fact a huge compliment. 

he and hoseok and yoongi talk for a while about their thoughts, about directions they’re thinking could work for this project and in the middle of the conversation, yoongi gets up and walks out, holding a hand up to let them know that they need to stop talking immediately because he can hear something in his head that can’t lose sight of before he lays it down. it’s a pretty routine occurrence, so they’re neither surprised nor insulted. 

when yoongi’s gone, hoseok looks at namjoon and shrugs. 

“so he’s already working on it, i guess. you wanna go grab something to eat?” 

namjoon thinks about it. realistically, yoongi will take a while to properly sketch out whatever is in his head to the point that he’s satisfied enough to bring them in on it. he’s not a perfectionist - not anymore, not by any means - because they all had to learn not to be, but he still likes to have the rough shape of something figured out before he offers it up to another set of ears. he likes to make sure that what he’s got is saying what he wants it to, before he calls them in to help him decided how exactly it says that. 

so, they’ve probably got more than enough time to eat before yoongi sends out the bat signal, but before namjoon can say this, or reply at all, hoseok speaks again; having misread namjoon’s silence. 

“he’ll come, if you call him. i don’t mind waiting.” 

it actually takes namjoon a second to realize that hoseok is talking about jungkook. not because he’s not always the first thought namjoon has - pretty often the only thing on his mind at all - but because for all of their joking about it, he hadn’t thought that they’d all realize so quickly that this was the opposite of a joke, for namjoon. he’s surprised by how easily and readily hoseok seems to accept that. 

“i don’t need to be with him every minute of every day,” namjoon asks, and the lift of hoseok’s eyebrows seem to suggest that he knows all too well just how big a difference can be found in the space between ‘need’ and ‘want.’ “plus, wouldn’t that be like - favoritism?” 

hoseok laughs, at this. 

“if not having a clear favorite is a genuine concern of yours, namjoon-ah, then we’re going to have to put this collaboration and also the whole rest of our schedules in their entirety on indefinite hold while you figure out how to go back in time, because you’re going to need to have a serious chat with yourself somewhere in or around 2011.” 

he doesn’t pause at all, not even to try and calculate the year. namjoon wonders if he should feel offended by that. 

“now is different to then, though,” he says slowly, the verbal version of reaching a hand out for help. “right?” 

“sure,” hoseok says, shrugging easily, “at first he was your favourite because you were being a good leader and hyung. then he was your favourite because he made you laugh the most. after that he was your favourite because you liked the way he sounded singing your words. then -” hoseok looks off into space, squinting, “fuck, it’s hard to keep track. i think jimin has it written down somewhere. next was either because he won us so many isac medals or because you thought you could make him your rapping legacy, i can’t remember which. but then it was definitely that he was your favourite because he tried to make other friends and do stuff that wasn’t anything to do with bts or any of us and you missed him so much you spent like a solid year on the constant verge of tears,” hoseok’s expression turns judgemental, but only for a second, and then he’s continuing, “and since then he’s been your favourite for like all of those reasons at once and also because it seems like literally everything he does these days becomes another reason for you to like him the most.” 

“okay,” namjoon says, breathing slowly in through his nose and even slower out through his mouth. “but i never showed him or anyone else that he was my favorite.” 

it’s always been a steadfast principle of namjoon’s that no matter where they were, what they were doing or why or how or anything else, he would never treat any of them differently. he would make himself available to every single one of them, however and whenever they needed him. he would always do what was best for the whole group and that meant treating all of the individuals around him like each and every single one of them was his whole world, sometimes, but always in turn. always fairly. they all wanted different things from him and accepted his attention in different forms, but he had never let any of them ever feel neglected by him. he hadn’t. not for a single day of this. he couldn’t have lived with himself, if he had. 

“joon-ah, my friend. my leader,” hoseok says, and namjoon feels kind of like he’s about to broken up with. “you never ever let it show that jungkook was your favorite.” 

namjoon breathes a sigh of something like relief. 

it is a relief that is short lived. 

“but that just made it worse, honestly,” hoseok shakes his head sadly, closing his eyes for a single but still deafening beat, maybe to remember or maybe just in remembrance, “you worked so very hard to be fair to all of us, to take care of us, but self care is a thing too, namjoon-ah.” 

how this became a lecture, namjoon has no clue, but he thinks he could maybe benefit from taking some notes. he feels like his own history is being re-told to him in a way that he’s never seen or heard it before. 

“you wanted to be with jungkook. you’ve always wanted to be wherever he was and it’s admirable that you fought to make yourself available to all of us, but we always knew where you wanted to be. that’s not a bad thing. it’s so good that you’ve finally stopped fighting it.” 

“i don’t - i’ve never - it’s n -” namjoon can’t finish even a word, never mind a thought, let alone a full sentence. there’s a dozen half formed things trying to crawl out of his mouth but they’re bottlenecking in his throat. 

“joon, it’s okay,” hoseok says, his hand on namjoon’s forearm saying the same thing in a different way, the tone of his voice adding a third translation for reference, “none of us ever thought you were gone where we couldn’t reach you if you were with jungkook. he’s one of us, namjoon. we knew you were never far.” 

“but it’s - if i’d …” 

hoseok just holds namjoon’s hand and says nothing. his thumb rubs across the line of namjoon’s knuckles to let him know that he’s there, that he’s not going anywhere. hoseok, knowing namjoon very well, gives him the time he needs. 

a gaping and monstrous minute of silence snatches namjoon up and chews him up between its teeth before it spits him back out again. 

“i thought i needed to be the middle. to stay in the center, all by myself. that way i could go to all of you when you needed me. that way i could see all of you all the time, and all of you could always reach out for me.” 

“i know, joon. we all know. you’ve always done your very best for us and we’d have loved you even if you didn’t, but you did and that made us love you more.” 

namjoon is shaking, he realizes, registering it in a distant kind of way. his body feels too small for him and also very far away. he keeps his eyes on his hand in hoseok’s. 

“if i’d done whatever i’d wanted, if i’d just stayed by his side -” 

hoseok’s hand squeezes gently around namjoon’s fingers and namjoon looks up into his eyes, into his kindly smiling and deeply, overwhelmingly familiar face. he wants to press the tip of his nose into hoseok’s dimples. he needs to feel the set of hoseok’s shoulders stacked safely inside the cradle of his own. 

so he tips forward in his chair, and hoseok holds still for it when he brushes his nose clumsily against his cheek. hoseok hugs him hard when namjoon folds his arms around him. his hands on namjoon’s back are a kind of soothing that namjoon has never known before. he feels like the safest kind of space. 

“you worked so hard for us,” hoseok says with his head tilted to lie along namjoon’s shoulder, “and it paid off. you did a good thing. but you could have taken a little more care of yourself, is all i’m saying, joon-ah.” 

namjoon tries to scoff, but it’s oddly wet sounding. when he speaks, his words are salty, but it doesn’t make them sting. 

“is that what i’m doing now? is this what ‘self care’ means?” 

they’ve all struggled with taking care of themselves at one time or another. some of them struggle to find time for it. some of them struggle to know how best to apply it. some of them have struggled to figure out what counts as self care, for them. 

for namjoon, he struggled with it simply as a concept, purely theoretically. he couldn’t understand what it meant, to care for one’s self, when so much of who and how and why he was depended on the rest of them - related specifically and sometimes solely to them being okay. he’s gotten better at it, as time has gone on. because of the at times constant seeming threat of burn out, he’s found ways to de-stress, to manage his wants and needs and even put his own well-being on the same level as the rest of theirs. he found so many small ways of making it work, even if he still never felt like he quite ‘got’ it. 

but now, he thinks he does. now, he thinks maybe some part of him had found a way to give him what he needed in spite of his brain not knowing how to process that - because his brain couldn’t do it. because his brain wasn’t up to the task, another part of him had had to take over, instead. 

he’s happier than he can ever remember being. and only one thing has really changed. and it’s not jungkook or anything that he’s doing. it’s namjoon, and what he has finally allowed himself to have - to reach out and take sometimes, but to just accept, more often than that. 

“it was always him, wasn’t it?” he asks, shaky still but no longer scared. 

when hoseok sits back to look at him, his hands soft and gentle on namjoon’s face as he wipes away his tears, his smile is familial. because hoseok is his family. they all are. and jungkook is too, but jungkook is something else, as well. jungkook is also something else entirely, to namjoon, and he has been for a very long time, namjoon realizes now. 

“i think so,” hoseok says. “i’m pretty sure. but only you know the answer to that question for sure, joon-ah.” 

he’s right, and when namjoon tries to answer his own question, he realizes that he doesn’t have to. 

because although it came out that way, although it was phrased that way and looked that way and sounded that way, it was never actually a question at all. 

it’s always been an answer, even when it was pretending to be something else - disguising itself as a question or trying to make itself seem bigger and scarier than it ever actually was, trying to convince namjoon to run away from it. namjoon has been surprised by it and confused about it, at different times, for the different guises it chose to show up as, but he has never once been afraid of it. he’s never seen it in any shape or form and thought to turn from it. 

it’s an answer that namjoon sees the truth of, now. 

hoseok takes him out for food, afterwards. they sit jammed into a tiny booth together and eat so much of the heartiest, most filling foods that hoseok can find on the menu that namjoon still feels pleasantly full but very much so even after they sit for a while after their meal to digest their food and talk about nothing at all serious or emotional or work related over the bottle of soju that they split. 

when they get back, hoseok ruffles namjoon’s hair like he’s much younger than him, like he’s a kid, and namjoon smiles at him, exhausted for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with how much he worked today or how much he ate tonight. 

when namjoon slides into bed next to jungkook - when namjoon arrives home, finally recognizing this for what it is, now - jungkook kisses him on the ball of his shoulder and reaches up under namjoon’s tank top to rub his tummy for him. 

“i love you,” namjoon tells him, with his pulse a pulpy thing between this teeth, his heart all the way outside of his body and lying next to him, curled up into his side. 

“love you too, hyung,” jungkook says, already mostly asleep and not hearing namjoon. not really. 

“i love you, jungkook,” namjoon says again, tries again, when jungkook’s breathing has long since slowed, when two of his fingers have snuck under the waistband of namjoon’s sleep pants and his hand has gone still, warm and low on his stomach. 

jungkook doesn’t say anything, and namjoon hadn’t been expecting him to. 

“i love this,” namjoon says, wrapping his arm around jungkook’s shoulders and bringing him in closer, hugging him further into himself. even lost in his dreams, jungkook flops further into namjoon’s space, throwing one of his legs across namjoon’s thighs and smacking his lips, spitting a little when his teeth catch on the sleeve of namjoon’s tank top. 

sleep comes easier than it has in a long, long time for namjoon, that night.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon dreams of jungkook, the next night. 

he’s always had strange dreams - terrible and wonderful in turn. for as far back as he can remember, his subconscious world has always been a richly intricate one, so much so that at times he wakes up exhausted, feeling like he’d lived entire other lives in his dreams. 

the settings and the strange and lovely realities that his brain builds for him are always complex, always tightly and thickly interwoven with elements that tie together to become something brand new, something he could never experience in the waking world. he dreams of entire seas made up of jewels, of places that can hear his thoughts and respond to meet his every need, of creatures that his vocabulary isn’t equipped to even begin to describe, of people that he’s never in his life met but still wakes up feeling bereft of, mourning the loss of for days after, sometimes. he dreams of stretches of time that he can walk through and touch, he dreams of the solutions to problems he’s sure he’ll come up against, one day. he dreams so very many ways and places and means of being that no matter what way you stacked or sliced it, his actual life would always fall at the very bottom of the pile. or it had seemed that way to namjoon, at least. for a very long time, but not anymore. 

namjoon doesn’t dream of the faces he’s surrounded with all day long. 

sometimes he dreams of people that he recognizes in the dream as his friends, his family, but they never look the way they really do, there. they look like total strangers, like people he can’t recall ever having met before, or their features are strangely blurred, unknowable the closer namjoon gets to them, the harder he tries to see them. 

when namjoon dreams of jungkook that night, he is entirely and clearly himself. 

namjoon dreams of jungkook’s face, exactly the way it really looks and in his dream, he reaches out to touch it. in his dream, the same fingertips that slave away to get what namjoon needs to say out of him however they must come trace the lines and soft curves of jungkook’s face and they glow at each and every single point of contact between them, namjoon lighting up from the inside out for the touch of his skin against jungkook’s. something inside of him burns because of jungkook, and even in namjoon’s dreams it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful. 

when he opens his eyes the next morning, jungkook’s still sleeping face is the first thing that namjoon sees. 

he very carefully, painfully gently draws the backs of his fingers across the rise of jungkook’s cheek and here and now, in the inbetween that comes after sleep but briefly precedes waking, namjoon would swear that he sees something he doesn’t know the name of spark at the tips of his fingers, a color that he can’t describe spilling slow and warm across jungkook’s skin. 

almost as if the touch is a flare of energy that passes between them, that passes from namjoon into him, jungkook’s eyes blink open then, though the rest of him remains still in the cradle namjoon has slept holding him in; his arm tucked all the way underneath jungkook’s body and lifted up around the cage of his ribs. 

the brown of jungkook’s eyes is a hundred different shades at once, the sun catching on his eyelashes and casting shadows across his irises that create a hundred thousand more. 

it’s just jungkook. 

it’s jungkook, who namjoon has known for years, who namjoon has watched grow and grow and grow, stretching up and out under namjoon’s watchful, cataloging gaze. 

he’s got morning breath and his hair could home several nesting birds and both of them have sweated in their sleep, their skin shining all over and tacky in places, sticking where they refused to pull away from one another during the night and still refuse to stop touching each other now. 

it’s jungkook, and the reality of him takes namjoon’s breath away. 

it’s jungkook, and he’s the wildest, greatest dream namjoon has ever had.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

when jungkook sticks his fingers in namjoon’s mouth, namjoon realizes he really very desperately needs to speak to someone about all of this. and like, now. 

it’s first thing in the morning, which totally explains why jungkook had turned in namjoon’s arms immediately upon waking up and stretched blindly to kiss him on the cheek, missing a little and straying too close to namjoon’s mouth because he’s not really looking, isn’t totally awake yet. 

nothing can explain to namjoon why jungkook’s response to this adorable little fudge of his is to giggle and then take namjoon’s bottom lip between two of his fingers and his thumb and squish it gently, his fingertips in namjoon’s mouth and brushing down against his gums. namjoon goes to lick his lips, purely a nervous habit, and accidentally licks jungkook’s fingers instead. why this in turn makes jungkook go eerily still and completely silent and then very carefully but purposefully press the pad of his index finger past namjoon’s teeth to touch his tongue is anybody’s guess but namjoon’s, honestly. 

so namjoon does the reasonable thing in this situation and leaps out of bed, locks himself in one of the communal bathrooms so he can jerk off thinking about his own fingers and jungkook’s mouth and jungkook’s fingers and his own mouth without worrying that jungkook and his mouth and his ears are just outside and maybe listening. 

then namjoon goes looking for an adult. 

he finds seokjin instead, but he’ll have to do. 

“i need help,” he says, and maybe he stresses it the wrong way or says it with more urgency and despair then he’d intended, because seokjin drops the mug he’d been drinking from right into the sink with a loud clatter and without a backwards glance crosses the kitchen floor in three strides to stand before namjoon and take his hands in his. 

“what is it. what happened,” he asks, low and concerned, and namjoon’s glad someone is finally taking all of this seriously, because it’s all fun and games kissing each other and sleeping together and having terrifyingly huge realizations about one another until you’re sticking your fingers in each other’s mouths for real and in broad daylight instead of only in your deepest, darkest fantasies. 

this is serious, now. 

“i think -” namjoon starts, struggling with his words in a way he hasn’t in years and years. “i think i have feelings for jungkook. like … romantic feelings.” 

the words sound foreign to his own ears. they sound like a language he doesn’t speak yet and is just repeating phonetically for now. the cadence and their delivery sound perfectly correct as he replays them in his head, but the meaning of them is baffling to him. he’s never said anything like this before. he’s never had to, because he’s never felt this way before. realizing that he found jungkook incredibly aesthetically appealing hadn’t been a shock at all. finding himself completely comfortable with touching and being touched by jungkook had been surprising but overall delightful. finally figuring out that actually, jungkook has always been special to namjoon in a way that he needn’t have spent so long fighting had taken a lot out of him, honestly. but now there’s this. added to all of that. and it’s amounting to something that’s completely unexplored terrain for namjoon. 

namjoon is maybe having his second significant cardiac event before he’s thirty years old in the middle of their kitchen while seokjin just sighs so hugely that namjoon feels strangely relieved after it too. 

“oh, is that all? i thought you were about to tell me you’d knocked him up or something. now that would be a scandal worthy of my time and attention. not to mention a pretty important scientific discovery.” 

seokjin sounds … longing, almost. but not at all - namjoon notes - surprised. 

“hyung,” he says, wondering if seokjin has heard him properly. “are you listening? i just told you that i have feelings. for jungkook. like -” he points helpfully in the direction of his own bedroom, where jungkook has likely fallen back asleep already. in namjoon’s bed. “that jungkook. our jungkook.” 

seokjin returns to the sink now, rescuing his abandoned mug and checking it over for cracks. 

“yes, i heard you, joon. this is great news? i’m very excited for you, i really am. everyone will be pleased, we were all hoping this would work out well for jungkook.” 

how is namjoon the one that’s confused by a conversation that he began and has lead himself? he really needs to schedule a brain scan for sometime very, very soon. 

“no hyung, i said i have feelings for jungkook.” 

seokjin sets the mug on the draining board to dry and turns back around to namjoon now, wiping his hands on a dish towel. 

“i know, joon-ah. it’s wonderful. jungkook’s going to be ecstatic. i’m pretty relieved, if i’m being totally honest.” 

namjoon wonders if he’s maybe the latest case of that phenomenon where someone falls asleep one night and then wakes up the next morning speaking a different language for no apparent reason and with no medical explanation whatsoever. 

“hyung, are you listening to what i’m saying? because i don’t understand a word of what you are saying.” 

maybe seokjin is the one that woke up with a flip switched in his brain. 

“you said you’ve got feelings for jungkook,” seokjin says slowly, exuding the absolute and majestic patience that having to be the hyung to the rest of them has taught and made him long practiced in. “and i said that i’m happy about that. for you, and also for jungkook. you know - because he’s in love with you. because he’s always been in love with you.” 

the whole world slides sideways. 

namjoon smacks a hand out against the door of the fridge for support, because his knees have just disappeared. his stomach seems to be readying itself to go hunt them down. 

“what,” he says, or tries to, but it’s a garbled, crumpled thing; both a question and a cry for help. a call for aid. 

seokjin is cheerily wiping down the countertops now, clearly beside himself with delight to be getting away with using yoongi’s special cloth when he’s not home to yell at him. 

“what what? he’s in love with you? oh come on, namjoon. of course he is. you knew that,” seokjin lifts a hand into the air to make a dismissive gesture and namjoon can’t tell if he’s not able to count seokjin’s fingers because they’re wiggling too quickly or because his brain has just crawled out of his ear and rolled away. “did you think he was making out with your face all the time as a new way of exfoliating?” seokjin snorts, the most amused by his own jokes, as usual. “i told him the cover songs weren’t working - yoongi’s influence, and clearly a waste of time. naturally, i told him he needed to pull your pigtails like any other eight year old would with his crush.” 

“ _what_ ,” is all namjoon can say. again. 

but then his struggle brain catches up and he realizes what seokjin has just said. 

“hyung, it’s really important that we stop teaching kids that pain and violence are an acceptable expression of affection. it’s incredibly damaging to teach them that when they’re at such a formative age.” 

at this, seokjin only sighs. 

“yes, joon. i do know that, i was being hyperbolic. but i appreciate your lectures on this every quarter or so, i really do. and you’ll be pleased to know that what you just said is pretty much word for word what jungkook told me when i told him to throw stones at you, until i explained i was being metaphorical. you’re a match made in someone’s idea of heaven, i’m sure.” 

speaking of heaven. 

“hyung, what was that you said about the covers jungkook sends me?” 

“oh,” seokjin shrugs, “that was yoongi’s idea, like i said. i thought it was too retro and also too subtle, considering it’s you. he’d have to make you a mixtape that was just thirteen versions of that ‘i want to fuck you like an animal’ song and you’d probably still find a way to break down his creative choices purely academically and hardvard referenced.” seokjin’s smile is somehow fond even when it’s also vaguely disbelieving and namjoon feels both understood and faint, still. “i love you, joon-ah, but you’re impossible to sexually proposition. and i’d know, since we’ve been watching jungkook try and fail to do so for years, at this point.” 

“because he’s in love with me.” 

though he somehow brings himself to say it, namjoon doesn’t believe it. he can’t believe it. 

“you tell me,” seokjin settles back against the counter and folds his arms across his chest, looking like he’s got all the time in the world to keep right on shattering namjoon’s world view, more than enough enthusiasm to see it all the way through to the devastating end. “what have those cute little covers he makes for you and you alone been telling you lately?” 

thinking about it - taking a brief and much needed from the hysterical screaming of his brain to focus on and think about just this - namjoon supposes you could pick out a pattern to the audio files jungkook has sent him over the years, if you were really committed to tracing and pinning down the theme. 

at first there had been a fair amount of careful, shallow exploration; a tentative testing of the waters with songs about wanting and doubting and experimenting with honesty, with trusting others with your truth. then there had been a stretch of quiet, softly yearning songs, a soundtrack to pining, almost, that had plucked at namjoon’s heartstrings like he was a violin. that had been followed by a brief and terrifying time when all jungkook had sent him was really explicit english rap verses and this was long, long after jungkook stopped actively pursuing rapping in bangtan’s sound. that didn’t mean he was any less incredible at it, of course, but namjoon hadn’t understood why he was still practicing. he can see now that jungkook wasn’t practicing anything, at least not anything that could be useful to their creative process, nothing that was at all helpful for namjoon’s cognitive process right now. 

lately, though. like, for a couple years now, it’s been love songs. sometimes loud, upbeat, joyful things. sometimes much quieter, somber and sentimental declarations. but all love songs, for almost as far back as namjoon can remember recently. 

“oh,” he says faintly, sitting down heavily in the chair that seokjin darts to pull out for him when otherwise, he’d just have sunk to the floor, he thinks. all he can hear in his head is the latest file jungkook had sent him. a love song that jungkook’s hero - justin bieber, because not even jungkook is actually perfect, though it’s a very near thing - had written for his wife. his fucking wife. namjoon is having a heart attack in his brain. 

“ahhhhh,” seokjin says, on his knees in front of namjoon know and looking up at him with a kind of sheepish understanding. he winces. “you um - you hadn’t quite got there yet, had you?” 

namjoon shakes his head because he can’t speak. he feels like the second he opens his mouth he’s going to cry and that’s okay, but it doesn’t feel right to do it here, not like this. he’s not afraid of it, he doesn’t mean to put it off, but here and now just doesn’t seem like the time or place. he needs to be alone for this, he thinks, or alone with - 

“sorry, sweetheart,” seokjin says, sounding regretful, patting namjoon’s knee consolingly. “i got ahead of myself, again. when you came to me with this, i always thought you’d figure it all out all at once, one of those patented little big bangs of yours, you know?” 

namjoon nods. he thinks. that does make sense to him. he’s still kind of stuck on what he’s realized just about himself and how he feels. that alone feels like the birth of a brand new universe to him. he has no idea how he missed the other universe that’s overlaying it. that’s maybe always been right there, right over and alongside it. and now that whatever miniscule had been separating them has been eaten away lately, it’s here. and here to stay. namjoon can’t understand how he hadn’t seen it before. how this picture ever made any sense to him at all when - looking at it now, as it really is - he can see that it’s always been a part of something larger. something so much more. 

“would you like to make a pre-appointment for when the second half of this falls into place in that big huge heart of yours, love?” seokjin asks gently, taking namjoon’s hands in his now and namjoon is certain of it when he nods this time. 

“yes please, hyung,” he says, and seokjin smiles at him; always where namjoon needs him to be - the shared moon that he and jungkook have always been chasing one another around in full view of. honestly, who needs hindsight when you’ve got kim seokjin. and also min yoongi. not to mention jung hoseok, park jimin and kim taehyung. 

“come and find me whenever you need me, i’ll always clear my schedule for you, you know that don’t you, joon-ah?” 

“i know, hyung,” namjoon says, standing up and then helping seokjin to his feet so he can hug him. 

and that’s the beautiful, terrible truth of it, now. 

namjoon _knows_.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s jimin who finds namjoon, when he goes to sit by himself and cry. 

he’s curled up under the window that most of his plants sit on and he’d thought he was home alone. he hadn’t come here to cry, specifically, but he always heads to his babies when he’s feeling vulnerable, when something has cut him up or left him rubbed raw. jungkook’s not here, so namjoon had gone to sit among his leafy babies instead. 

he’s sitting cross-legged underneath them, their trailing leaves draped down to touch and spill over his shoulder, sniffling into his sleeve when jimin walks by still dressed for outside and spots him. he glances at him as he walks past and then a full three seconds pass before jimin is storming back around the corner he just disappeared beyond, coming to namjoon with his arms outstretched, already on his knees before he even reaches him. 

“what did he do? i’ll kill him,” jimin says, cradling namjoon’s head to his chest even though he almost snaps namjoon’s neck in the process. “where is he? what did he do, hyung?” 

namjoon giggles wetly into his sweater. 

“he didn’t do anything, jimin-ah,” namjoon says, wiping at his eyes with his still relatively clean sleeve. “he’s great. he’s wonderful. he’s jungkook, you know?” 

jimin tips his head in against namjoon’s and hums, vibrating at a much lower frequency, now that he knows he doesn’t have to murder one of his best friends in cold blood today. 

“i mean, i think he’s pretty cool. good kid. great guy. phenomenal body etcetera,” he pauses, taking a breath. “but how i feel about him isn’t anything like how you feel about him, is it, hyung?” 

when namjoon laughs this time, it sounds a little closer to normal. he only has to clear his throat twice before he can speak. his eyes are swimming again, but that’s okay. 

“do you think i wasted too much time, jimin-ah? what if it took so long for me to figure it out that it’s too late now?” it’s easier to voice his fears out loud than it is to think about them, or try to figure them out by himself. these are untackled, uncharted fears, born brand new to threaten something that even just the prospect of - just the chance at - would be beyond namjoon’s imagination; bigger and better and more than anything he’s ever done or seen in his dreams. he wants it so much. it scares him, how much he wants it, but it scares him more to think that he might have missed his chance. 

“oh, hyung,” jimin says, his voice low and soothing, his hand still in namjoon’s hair and his other arm curled down over namjoon’s shoulder, his hand pressed to namjoon’s heart. “what ‘too late’? where is he every night, hyung? where do we know we can find him every moment of every single day, when he gets his own way?” 

and namjoon knows that. he’s thought about that. but while all of it is wonderful and has in some ways been the very thing to inspire this devastating series of revelations in namjoon, there’s a limit to them. there’s a clear explanation for what they’ve been doing, for jungkook. 

“i’m his hyung,” namjoon says, breathing deeply into a sigh so that it doesn’t become a sob instead. “i’m the leader. he loves me. he’s comfortable with me. that could be all he wants from me. this might be all he needs.” and if it is, nothing will change. namjoon will do whatever he can to give jungkook anything that he wants from him. anything at all, however and whenever he wants it. but - “what if this is all he’s ever wanted it to be?” 

jimin is silent for a moment, the pads of his lovely little fingers swirling against namjoon’s scalp, gently twisting his hair as he thinks. or maybe as he gives namjoon time to think. when he speaks, he doesn’t give namjoon the assurances that namjoon isn’t ready to believe, but is still expecting to hear. 

“well,” he says, level and firm, “what else is there, hyung?” 

and though they stay like that for a long time, eventually turning their attention to the plants that they’re sitting in and under, namjoon lying down in jimin’s lap to reach up and point out things, to introduce jimin to his and jungkook’s family by name, namjoon can’t offer jimin any answers to the question that he has asked. 

because this time - for this part of it - the answers are not a passive thing, are neither an existing body of information nor a disguised but still accounted for presence. 

this is a question that namjoon can’t think through or logically unfold or stumble into or wrack his mind or scour their history for. 

the answers to this question can’t be found. 

they must be done.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

when yoongi summons namjoon to his room, namjoon is expecting some kind of lecture. a pep talk or maybe a literal kick in the ass at the very least. 

what he’s not expecting is for yoongi to toss a mid-sized cardboard box at his chest the second he arrives at yoongi’s bedroom door. it’s certainly violent, but it’s not even almost the kind of violence namjoon had braced himself for. ( verbal ) 

“catch,” yoongi says, totally deadpan and a full forty seconds after namjoon’s quick reflexes have saved him. well. his present and modestly working reflexes. which is a miraculous display in and of itself, really. 

“what’s this, hyung?” namjoon asks, peering between the label and yoongi but getting no useful information from either. “i didn’t order anything?” 

“i know that,” yoongi seems affronted - probably at any perceived slight against him and his extensive and flawless spreadsheet system for handling deliveries - and he frowns even as he turns away from namjoon to get back to whatever he’s working on at his desktop. “your other half did, but he had it addressed to you, so it’s obviously for you, you fool.” 

namjoon stares at yoongi. 

“hyung,” he says, trying for deadpan himself even though he never gets anywhere close to the performance piece yoongi has made of it. “but you’re my other half.” 

and truth be told, you could make a case for the validity of that statement pretty easily, namjoon thinks. yoongi understands the workings of namjoon’s mind even better than namjoon himself does, most of the time. that’s partially because yoongi is a genius, but it’s also at least as much down to them lining up pretty well, cognitively, a clear pair if you were to stack a map of namjoon’s brain on top of a map of yoongi’s. they get one another in a way that’s almost uncomfortable, sometimes, or at least would be if it didn’t just make namjoon’s life twelve times easier, instead. 

predictably, yoongi only huffs at him, doesn’t even deign to turn back around, keeps right on squinting at the screen in front of him. namjoon makes a mental note to get the managers to schedule an eye test for him. 

“riiiiight,” yoongi drawls, “so do you wanna break it to jungkook that he’s actually dating both of us, or should i?” 

now that the joke has been well and truly ruined, namjoon turns his attention back to the package in his hands, only shuddering a little at the thought of yoongi dating jungkook. it’s a much smaller and far less visceral reaction than the one he has at the thought of anyone else dating jungkook, and namjoon thinks that yoongi should be honored by that. 

“what do you think it is, hyung?” he asks after a moment, shaking the box a little, but not much, just in case. something thumps softly from side to side but it doesn’t sound like a very solid thing, whatever is in there. jungkook hadn’t mentioned ordering anything for him. he always brings back snacks for namjoon and he’s forever just handing over stuff of his that namjoon expresses a liking for, but for the most part it’s the rest of them not even fractionally maxing out their black cards for jungkook at the drop of a hat, not the other way around. 

“namjoon, i love you very much and it’s important to me that you know that,” at this, namjoon gasps. he and yoongi have a rule about verbal affection and that rule is ancient and scared. that rule is: don’t. namjoon is horrified but also maybe jealous of how easily yoongi flouts even his own rules. “but it’s more important to me that in this moment you understand that i would literally rather do a solo vocal track on our next album than even hazard a guess at what that box contains.” 

and because their brains are so very similar, namjoon gets it. too well, honestly. it’s too easy for them both to egg one another on down that dark, dark path and namjoon knows that nothing good lies at the bottom of it, so he turns back while he still can. he comes back towards the light. 

“you’re absolutely right hyung. thanks for signing for this, you’re the best. love you.” 

yoongi starts to pretend to gag out of sheer habit, but catches himself at the last minute and simply nods instead. smiling, namjoon ducks out of his magical little hub of electronic creativity and postmaster excellence and tucks the box under his arm as he goes wandering back through the apartment. 

he finds jungkook doing laundry, which should have been the first place he looked, if he’d been thinking clearly. 

“oh, it came?” jungkook asks before he even says hello, his eyes on the box namjoon is holding even as he tilts his cheek up to let namjoon kiss it. 

he’s got his hair tied back out of his face in a little knot and namjoon could watch him dither between his favourite fabric softener brands for hours, when he’s like this. he could spend a lifetime looking at jungkook when he’s this happy. he’d do anything to get to spend the rest of this lifetime trying to make jungkook happy. and he would even if jungkook didn’t make him so happy, he thinks. even if just them being together like this - hanging out while jungkook does laundry and namjoon watches him - cost namjoon his next five lives after this. unless he knew for sure he was going to meet jungkook there, too. six lifetimes with jungkook sounds about perfect. 

“it came, but what it is?” namjoon asks, lifting himself up to sit on the dryer but being careful about it so jungkook doesn’t frown at him for scuffing it, again. 

“open it, hyung,” jungkook says, making a ‘go on, hurry up’ gesture with his hands. 

so namjoon carefully peels the tape off and then very carefully opens the box. he strips away what feels like thirty layers of tissue paper and several thick sheets of bubble wrap that yoongi is going to get hours of fun from, only to find inside - 

“oh!” he gasps, “a friend?” 

it’s a dinosaur. a lovely hand sewn dinosaur plush toy, made entirely out of felt, roughly a foot tall. on its tail, halfway down its back and on its left shoulder are teeny tiny little houses, miniature structures set upon the dinosaur’s body as their foundation. it’s beautiful. conceptually it is a wonder and with its soft lines but firm feeling and the stitches big and sturdy, the whole thing is a love song to the balance of heaviness made light enough to bear. just looking at it makes namjoon feel happy, feel buoyant and awed and plainly _better_ , somehow. visuals have always been a door into another world for him. art of every kind is his happy place, and it ignites something in him, that jungkook knows and remembers this. 

looking at him, knowing that he is seen by him, namjoon feels like a house that someone has just come home to and turned all the lights on in. 

“jungkook, it’s gorgeous. i love them,” namjoon says, instantly cradling the creature in his arms, the box falling to the floor at his feet, forgotten. 

“i thought you’d like it, hyung,” jungkook’s smile is soft. satisfied. “i saw one of their cousins online and they looked to me like they were meant to be yours. i emailed the artist and had this one made especially for you, they’re the only one like it in the world.” 

namjoon doesn’t know what to say. he can’t put what he’s feeling into words, so he tries to say it another way. 

he reaches for jungkook with one hand, and flexes his fingers until jungkook snorts softly and climbs up off his knees to come crowd against namjoon where he’s still sitting on top of the dryer, pushing the pile of laundry he’s been sorting on his lap onto the floor to get to namjoon. he stands between namjoon’s spread knees and when namjoon pulls him into a hug, the only thing still separating them is the dinosaur, held to namjoon’s chest but pressed there by jungkook’s chest as well as namjoon’s hand, now. 

“what are you going to name them, hyung?” jungkook wants to know, and namjoon doesn’t even have to think about it. 

“their name is ‘one day’,” namjoon says, looking down between them at where the dinosaur peeks up at him. 

“i like it. it suits them,” jungkook decides, still smiling at namjoon, but from up close now. from a place that feels like it is inside some kind of line or boundary, a significant step past something that jungkook had never dared to go beyond, before. 

namjoon holds ‘one day’ in one hand, and he lets the other hand rest high on jungkook’s arm, his index and middle fingers brushing up under the edge of his tshirt. 

“thank you, jungkook-ah,” namjoon says softly, swelling and sincere, and jungkook lowers his eyes like he’s embarrassed, but doesn’t step back. 

he reaches for the dinosaur that’s still between them, and his hand meets namjoon’s, their palms overlapping at the dinosaur’s back. 

with their hands stacked like that and namjoon looking at the feathered line of jungkook’s eyelashes, with jungkook and him both holding onto his gift, namjoon dares to think of another day. a day that’s coming maybe, but has not yet arrived. a day that’s been marked and circled on a spreadsheet for a long, long time now, but that won’t be signed for by yoongi, when it gets here. 

namjoon’s not sure whose signature will welcome it, when the time comes, or where or when it will arrive. he has no idea who exactly ordered it, or even if that was an act that could ever have been done alone. 

none of the particulars matter. 

jungkook lifts his eyes to meet namjoon’s again and he reaches blindly to turn on the washing machine next to them, the quiet hum of it when it starts spinning feeling like a soundtrack of sorts, sounding like background music - but serving as a backdrop to what? 

namjoon and jungkook are in one another’s arms, their bodies lined up together and that’s already a kind of music, in and of itself. they’re the bones of something, the rough sketch of something and namjoon knows it’s only going to be filled in and build on from here on out, even if he doesn’t know exactly how. 

there’s a lot that namjoon’s not sure of, but this much he knows for sure: 

the day is coming, and that’s all that actually matters at all. 

‘one day’ is in his arms, and jungkook’s hand is over his, his hips between namjoon’s knees and his eyes locked with namjoon’s, a promise there that namjoon wants to tie himself up in with a bow and hand deliver right back to jungkook. 

“you are very, very welcome chagiya,” jungkook says, and though the details are and will remain unknowable for a while yet, namjoon already has all the information he could ever need.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

knowing what he knows now doesn’t really change much, for namjoon. 

he knows what this means to him, he knows what seokjin thinks this means for jungkook, but he can only hope that seokjin is right, he can’t know that he is, not yet. 

nothing changes about how he and jungkook are with one another. everything continues on exactly as it has been. 

and so although he’s braced for it, their ‘yet’ still finds a way to sneak up on him. 

jungkook decided to try and cook a kimchi stew today and namjoon has been trying to get better at cooking too so it makes sense for him to tag along. 

namjoon only wonders for a brief moment what his excuse would be if jungkook decided it was time to get more tattoos, or that he wanted to take up sword eating or something. namjoon finds himself wondering not for the first time lately just how far his excuses can go and how thinly stretched they must already be by now. 

“ah, fuck,” jungkook says, and namjoon’s by his side before he’s even sucked his finger into his mouth even though that’s the first thing jungkook does; his instincts always trending towards the orally fixated. cursedly so, in namjoon’s opinion. 

“what did you do,” namjoon asks lowly, exasperated with himself for being lowkey mad that jungkook is hurt, even though jungkook had done it himself. 

“’s nothing, hyung,” jungkook says around his ring finger, “jus’ burn’t ih a bih.” 

when jungkook pouts around the tip of his own finger, namjoon sees stars. red stars. pulsing red stars that are oddly rounded out in shape, so much so that they almost look like huge, rapidly beating hearts instead. 

namjoon has become an emoji, personified. 

well then, he might as well become a meme, while he’s at it. 

“want me to kiss it better?” he asks, joking, but neither of them laugh. 

jungkook doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything. he just sucks at his finger and stares at namjoon, his gaze lowering and something in the atmosphere shifting, planets realigning around them so that even though they don’t move at all, everything has changed. 

namjoon is already leaning in before jungkook nods. and when he pulls his finger free of his lips, namjoon’s own lips press it back against them, still parted slightly. 

it’s just an indirect kiss. 

it’s jungkook’s lips and namjoon’s lips touching the same thing, except they’re doing it at the same time. so it’s jungkook’s lips and namjoon’s lips with just jungkook’s finger keeping them apart; only that separating them and preventing it from being a real kiss. 

so it’s understandable, namjoon thinks, that jungkook breathes in a shocked breath. it’s just the logical thing to do, namjoon decides, to brush his nose against jungkook’s in - in what? in apology? in commiseration? in celebration? 

namjoon doesn’t know, but it feels right. when he steps away, jungkook’s eyes are huge and his finger is still pressed to his lips but it looks like he’s shushing himself now and that makes namjoon smile, because he feels like he did something right. he feels like he just aced a test he hadn’t studied for. 

they turn away from one another to go back to their respective cooking tasks - namjoon slowly, not so neatly chopping vegetables and jungkook doing the complicated parts and complimenting namjoon’s work - and conversation filters back in gradually, easily. 

when they sit down to eat together, it’s just like any other day - the two of them together and completely comfortable like that, revelling in it, even when taehyung and hoseok come in to sit at their sides and eat off their plates. it’s easier to just push namjoon’s plate between them to share, and then for him and jungkook to take turns feeding each other what’s left on jungkook’s plate. namjoon is clumsy with his chopsticks, struggling sometimes because his fingers don’t always cooperate with his instructions and he doesn’t mind at all that hoseok and taehyung laugh at him for that, he finds, when he means that jungkook waits for him to grasp whatever he’d dropped and then lifts namjoon’s hand himself, guiding namjoon’s chopsticks to his mouth instead of reaching for his own. 

taehyung offers to clean up after them, a rarity from him but maybe just his opportunistic streak taking the chance to try and impress seokjin by voluntarily doing something domestic. namjoon is happy to leave him to it, and jungkook laughs at him, but doesn’t try to argue. 

it’s late now, but time is kind of a wheel that they can spin for themselves at this point, so namjoon has plans to hit up the gym and he knows that jungkook’s got a gaming date with some of his ‘97 line friends. 

they part simply and sweetly, jungkook kissing namjoon on the cheek and looking a little flushed, but probably just because it’s a warm night. 

namjoon kisses him on the forehead, just because he can, and then they’re going their separate ways and it’s fine, it’s totally normal. 

it was just an indirect kiss. 

it’s nothing. 

it’s not a big deal at all.

o o o 

namjoon works out harder than he’s ever worked out in his life. he lifts more weight, extends his sets by several reps and even does entire extra sets just to try and exhaust his body enough to douse the flames of the forest fires that his brain has set all through him. 

it half works and it half doesn’t, because by the time he gets home he feels like he’s never going to sleep ever again in his life, but when he goes to jungkook’s room, he finds jungkook already knocked out and asleep on top of the covers. 

he’s dressed in his night clothes so namjoon just grabs a blanket from his own room and covers him with that. he looks at him for a long moment and then he goes back to his own room. it’s the first night in weeks that they’ve spent apart, but namjoon doesn’t want to wake jungkook up with his very loud thinking. he’s afraid he wouldn’t get any thinking done at all if he was to climb into bed with jungkook when he’s like this. when he feels like this. 

in a cute little impromptu throwback to their early days, namjoon manages a whopping ninety minutes of sleep before his alarm squawks at him to get up and go again. he stumbles into the bathroom and spends most of his shower trying to wake up and he’s so tired that it actually takes him a while to recall exactly why he hadn’t slept. he drops his body wash when he remembers what happened yesterday. what he did yesterday. 

he goes through the rest of his morning routine mechanically, relying heavily on his muscle memory, and once he’s dressed and technically ready to go but also not at all equipped to face this day, he takes the biggest breath that he can, tucks his phone into the front pocket of his bag and heads out. 

when he opens his bedroom door he almost walks into jungkook, who is also up and dressed and looks ready to go, but is standing here with his hands balled into white knuckled fists at his sides, in front of namjoon’s bedroom door. 

“uh - good … morning?” namjoon asks, and it shouldn’t be a question, but it is. lots of stuff that shouldn’t be something is something and some things that should be something, should be very much something, amount to nothing, instead. the world is a senseless place. existence is chaotic and futile at best. 

“yeah, whatever,” jungkook says, “can i kiss you, hyung?” 

namjoon’s eyes go so wide that it feels like it takes genuine effort to blink, his eyelids trying to span a distance they’ve never traversed before. his heart is beating in his elbows, but that’s probably fine. 

“oh. um. you mean … like -” namjoon presses his finger into his own dimple and jungkook lightly slaps his hand away from his face. and then he pushes namjoon’s bag off his shoulder so it’s no longer in between them. 

“no, not like that,” jungkook says, taking a step in with a look on his face that namjoon has previously only ever been able to associate with isac medals, rap battles against taehyung and saesangs trying to hurt or touch one of them. it’s a particularly vicious kind of determination. it’s absolute resolve. with teeth. “my mouth. your mouth. can i, hyung?” 

namjoon has no idea where the sound he makes come from, but he kind of wishes he’d recorded it, because he thinks it could make a pretty great affect for one of their tracks. hoseok would love it. 

“yeah,” namjoon says, not looking away from jungkook in case he disappears when he blinks. “yes, ‘guk. if you want to.” 

and then he’s watching jungkook’s eyes fall to his mouth as he leans in, he’s watching jungkook’s eyes fall slowly closed and then jungkook’s lips are touching his lips. jungkook is kissing him. 

it’s not exactly a peck, but it’s barely more. it’s an impossibly soft press of lips and it feels just like the way jungkook has kissed him a hundred times by now, but it’s a kiss - a real kiss - this time and namjoon wants to bring a hand up to his own mouth. he wants to touch the pads of his fingers to jungkook’s mouth. he wants to kiss him again. 

“c’mon hyung, we’ll be late,” jungkook says, and he takes namjoon’s hand to pull him along with him. 

yoongi and seokjin and jimin are already waiting in the front hall when jungkook and namjoon appear and nobody says a word about them arriving together or holding hands or both blushing so hard that namjoon can’t tell if the heat of his face is his own or just from his proximity to jungkook’s. 

they hold hands while they wait for taehyung and hoseok, and when they step into the elevator jungkook only readjusts their hands so that their fingers are locked together, instead. 

they’re in different cars, as usual, and namjoon wants to do something about that, today of all day it feels very terribly wrong to him, but he also needs a reprieve, maybe, because it feels like he hasn’t taken a single proper breath since jungkook kissed him. jungkook _kissed_ him. 

though he doesn’t say anything, jungkook squeezes namjoon’s hand before he lets him go. his face, when namjoon risk a glance at him, is held in that that very careful, very tightly contained expression he makes when he’s trying to hide something. he’s given up on being able to hide the fact that he’s hiding something - from them, at least - but this is how his face looks when he’s trying not to let whatever he is feeling show on his face. as usual, his smiling eyes give him away completely. 

as soon as their hands pull apart, namjoon grabs for jungkook’s other hand and kisses the peaks of his knuckles, totally and utterly failing not to grin. 

“you’re having a good day, huh?” hoseok asks, looking at namjoon over his ipad when namjoon tosses himself at his seat like a bouncy ball at a wall. 

“to quote the poet spongebob squarepants - ‘best. day. ever,’” namjoon says, and then he pulls out his phone, scrolls to a particular playlist, and puts his earbuds in to listen to jungkook’s voice while he effectively and enthusiastically loses his fucking mind.

o o o 

when a hand knots in the back of namjoon’s sweater, he knows without looking that it’s jungkook. he can tell by the way jungkook touches him. he can tell instantly the rhythms of how jungkook reaches out for him. 

“sleep with me tonight, hyung,” jungkook says, already speaking before namjoon has fully turned to look at him. “stay with me?” 

namjoon doesn’t know how to tell him that he’d slept alone last night for jungkook’s sake. he doesn’t know if he can say that there’s never a night - never a time - when he wouldn’t rather be with jungkook. even when he can’t figure jungkook out, even when he’s too afraid to tell jungkook the things that he’s figured out about himself, everything makes more sense to him when he’s wherever jungkook is. everything is better, when he’s with jungkook. 

“of course. i’ll be there. wait for me,” namjoon tells him, and when he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror twenty minutes later, his eyes are still shining with something he doesn’t know the name of. 

when jungkook kisses him goodnight later that night, he leans down over namjoon - there in his bed, again - to do it. 

it’s not another real kiss, not quite. not yet. 

but their first kiss had been just that. 

the first. 

the first of many, if namjoon has anything at all to say about it.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

only, the next time it happens, jungkook kisses namjoon again and they both end up in tears. 

later, namjoon will realize that the two are connected. 

but for now, there is only this - 

“ - sn’t me that missed the beat two separate times out there, though, was it?” 

it’s an especially rare occasion when yoongi gets to dunk on jimin for anything dance-related, so he’s really milking it. namjoon knows already that this sentence is going to become something of a refrain for the next couple of days, until jimin either punches yoongi or gives him that look says he needs to stop. or else jimin will punch him. 

the recording had gone well and namjoon kind of loves this part - when their stage clothes have been stripped off them and the stylists can bustle off to get them packed away to be fixed or washed or both, and they’re left mostly alone, in various states of undress, totally stripped down in every sense of the word and teasing and complimenting one another while they layer back on their street clothes. 

right now, jungkook is standing next to namjoon wearing nothing but his jeans and all of his jewelery and namjoon kind of loves his life, has he mentioned? 

he’s in such a good mood that he doesn’t even mind playing along when seokjin comes to poke and prod at him, crowing ridiculous things about how namjoon can be the first one of them to do a full crop top photoshoot, now, asking if he and jungkook are competing with one another for best bts body. namjoon’s blushing a little, but only because he’s the center of the attention, not because it’s seokjin. 

so it kind of confuses him, why jungkook feels the need to in this moment push his way into namjoon’s space - while pushing seokjin back out of it - and kiss him squarely, firmly on the mouth. 

everybody freezes. 

namjoon goes instantly, devastatingly cold. 

jungkook steps back so quickly that he almost trips on taehyung’s slippers, and he slaps a hand across his own mouth so hard that the sound of it rings out in the otherwise deathly silent room. 

and then everyone is all of a sudden very busy and concerned with getting dressed again, looking at their clothes and only at their clothes, not at jungkook, not at namjoon, not at one another. 

jungkook yanks a hoodie on over his head without putting on a shirt first and then he’s gone. 

he kissed namjoon and then he ran away. 

and namjoon is already reaching for his jacket when yoongi looks up at him, so he’s kind of annoyed when yoongi says, 

“go after him. fix this,” like namjoon for one second had any other intention. 

when he finds jungkook he’s in the furthermost backseat of one of their cars, curled down around his knees pulled up into his chest, with his hood pulled down to hide his face. and he’s crying. 

so namjoon climbs into the car with him, shuts the door behind him and starts to cry too. 

jungkook looks at him with wet eyes that are already red rimmed, and another sob gets pulled out of namjoon. 

“hyung. why are you crying?”

“i don’t know. why are you crying?” namjoon shoots back immediately, because he just wants this to stop. he can’t think when jungkook is crying. he doesn’t know what to do, when jungkook is upset. 

“i’m crying because i just kissed you in front of everyone and i didn’t even ask and i shouldn’t have done that and not only because there were other people there, i shouldn’t have done it at all and i’m sorry, hyung, i’m so sorry that i -” 

“jungkook,” namjoon says, reaching out to curl his fingers down around where jungkook has his hands locked together, his arms banded tight around his knees, “you don’t have to be sorry. you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

jungkook grabs for namjoon’s hand like he’s falling and trying to save himself. 

“but hyung,” he says, no longer crying now, but still wet faced and confused, “i - in front of everyone. i -” 

“did you do that because you were jealous of seokjin hyung? because -” namjoon is going to say that jungkook doesn’t need to be. that there’s no one that he needs to be jealous of, but that he can talk to namjoon about this stuff, if he needs to. he doesn’t need to act out of frustration. he definitely doesn’t need to cry, not over namjoon. 

but - 

“no,” jungkook interjects, dropping his knees back down onto the floor of the car so he can turn towards namjoon in his seat, “it wasn’t that. i wasn’t jealous. or i was, but not of hyung. i just … ” he bites at the corner of his mouth and sniffs hard. “i was jealous that hyung could touch you and i couldn’t. that made me so mad and i wasn’t thinking, i shouldn’t have - ”

“you can, though,” namjoon interrupts him, hoping to head off another apology that he neither needs nor wants to hear. “you can touch me. you can kiss me, just like you did. any time you want to, ‘guk.” 

jungkook’s eyebrows fly up on his forehead, disappearing underneath the damp sweep of his bangs. 

“i - i can?” 

namjoon gently wipes up under his eyes with the pads of his thumbs and then drags his sleeve briskly across his own face. 

“yeah, you can,” namjoon nods. “of course you can.” 

“but -” jungkook’s eyebrows reappear, dipped together in confusion, in deep thought, now, “wait. wait. just. wait. so i can … do that. again. in front of the other hyungs, even?” 

namjoon nods quickly and emphatically. encouragingly, he hopes. 

“and - wait -” 

namjoon would laugh, if this was anything else that jungkook was so obviously struggling with, but it’s not like much of this has made instant sense to namjoon either, so he sits patiently and waits with jungkook while he works through it. that’s what jungkook has been doing for namjoon, even if he hasn’t known it. 

“so can i do it when it’s just the two of us? as well?” 

jungkook looks at namjoon exactly the way he does when he’s come across an english phrase or a philosophical concept somewhere that he’s determined to understand, that he wants namjoon to explain to him, or learn with him, if namjoon doesn’t already have the answers he’s come looking for. 

and when namjoon nods again, decisive this time, jungkook’s gaze drops like a stone through water. he’s eyeing namjoon’s mouth speculatively now, openly wanting, and namjoon is - he realizes now - more than halfway in love with this boy. halfway in love with jungkook came and went a long time ago, but namjoon probably didn’t notice it because he’d been too busy trying to think of a legitimate reason to hold jungkook’s hand at the time. and also ever since. 

he puts his hand on jungkook’s knee, now, feeling emboldened and reckless and only mostly out of control. 

“whenever you want, jungkook. like … any time the urge strikes you. unless we’re onstage or something, i guess. but any other time? sure. yes. you can. of course you can, ‘guk.” 

jungkook eyes are shining again, but that’s probably more to do with how namjoon hasn’t seen him blink in a while than anything else. 

“because kissing is nice?” he asks, and namjoon huffs a laugh at him. 

“well, yeah. it is. but no, not because of that.” 

“because you’ve been trying to work on the skinship thing?” 

namjoon swats at jungkook’s thigh, but very lightly. and then he leaves his hand to rest there. it feels like a heavy thing to have done. it feels heady. 

“i’m not trying to do anything with ‘the skinship thing’ you brat. do you see me kissing taehyung on the cheek every day? when was the last time i slept in hoseok’s bed, do you think?” touching the others - showing them how he feels without saying it - has been getting easier because of what he’s doing with jungkook, but that’s never been why he’s doing this with jungkook. 

“then why, hyung? why do i get to kiss you whenever i want to?” jungkook’s eyes are huge and searching. namjoon feels a little bit like he’s trying to swim ashore without getting picked up by a lighthouse’s beacon. he feels like he’s drowning and jungkook is the summer sea, warm and endless all around him. 

“because,” namjoon says, speaking before he knows how he’s going to finish that sentence. he doesn’t let himself think about it, not this time. “because it’s you, jungkook.” 

“oh,” jungkook says, and his mouth makes that terrible, awful shape around that godforsaken word again, and namjoon finally, finally goes under. 

he leans across the seat of the car and presses his mouth to jungkook’s. just like jungkook had done a couple of days ago, just lightly, but for a beat longer than they’d kissed the first time. jungkook holds still for him, grips tight at namjoon’s hand in his, and lets his mouth go soft for it, kisses namjoon like the touch of his mouth brings jungkook some kind of relief, something he’d very badly needed. 

namjoon should have done this before now, he realizes. jungkook kissed him first, so it was his turn to kiss jungkook next. that had probably contributed to jungkook feeling like he didn’t know when he could and couldn’t touch namjoon, should and shouldn’t kiss him. this thing between them has always been balanced, always been entirely mutual in nature - for this part of it, at least - and namjoon let it get off kilter. 

“because it’s you, jungkook,” namjoon repeats himself, pulling back to look into jungkook’s eyes, “and because i want you to. because i want to kiss you, too.” 

he sees it coming this time, when jungkook’s lips start to round out again, so he ducks back in and kisses him again, quicker this time, but harder too. to punctuate what he just said. to make up for his mistake. 

“okay, hyung,” jungkook breathes, his eyes still on namjoon’s mouth. “okay,” he says, like he’s steeling himself for something, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

namjoon’s phone hums in his pocket, then, and he thumbs the message open so that jungkook can see the screen too when he sees that it’s from seokjin. he kind of wishes he hadn’t, when they actually read it.

seokjin  
  
you’d better not be making each other cry or fucking  
  


one of those is obviously much more acceptable to me personally, but objectively speaking probably not so much  
  


tragically, i’m pretty sure you’re both crying, because yoongi is and he doesn’t know why  
  


anyway i’m riding back with jimin, so you’re free to do whatever. we’re all heading home now. if you stop off at the district office to register your marriage without telling me, i’ll hate you both forever 🥰🥰🥰  
  


namjoon doesn’t bother to respond the messages, and he has no idea why jungkook’s response is to smile tiredly and say “best hyung. well, second best hyung. no - best hyung. you’re best husband.” 

but it doesn’t really matter, not right now. 

their driver arrives and checks in with them to make sure they’re ready to go, and then it’s just the two of them, tucked up together in the backseat with jungkook lifting namjoon’s arm up around his shoulders and snuggling in against his side. it’s not enough, not nearly, so namjoon makes him take his boots off so he can lift his legs up over namjoon’s lap, get him half sitting in it, now. 

namjoon has one arm around jungkook’s shoulders and the other up under the bend of his knees, his hands joined so he can hug jungkook to his chest. jungkook just leans his head in against namjoon’s shoulder and sighs, the sound content. 

“you kissed me first, you know, hyung,” jungkook murmurs after a while, when namjoon had thought maybe he’d nodded off. 

“i did?” namjoon asks, trying to remember. he’s thought about kissing jungkook so many times, so many different ways, and the times when it has actually happened stick out in technicolor glory for him, but maybe he missed one. maybe one got mixed in with the ones from his daydreams, his errand thoughts, his actual dreams, the urges that he’s always fighting against. 

“the first night i put you to bed. or the first time since - this, i guess. i knew you wouldn’t remember,” jungkook tells him, and he doesn’t sound disappointed in namjoon, but that doesn’t mean namjoon isn’t. 

“oh,” he says, “when you brushed my teeth?” 

when he’d thought about it, when he’d wanted so badly to kiss jungkook, when he’d been so exhausted that he hadn’t had the energy to fight himself. 

“mhmm. i wanted to kiss you the next day, but i knew you wouldn’t remember. i knew you’d probably freak out if i asked.” jungkook shifts minutely closer somehow, and namjoon shivers when the tip of his nose nuzzles against the side of namjoon’s neck. 

and namjoon wants to be able to protest, he wants to believe that he wouldn’t have freaked out if jungkook had brought it up with him, but he knows that back then, he probably would have. he was already deep in this, but he didn’t know it, then. not yet. 

“how come you waited until now? why did you decide to ask now?” namjoon wants to know, but more importantly he needs jungkook to know - “that was so brave of you, ‘guk.” 

“eh,” jungkook shrugs against namjoon, “it was more like i just waited until i couldn’t actually take it anymore? you know what i’m like, hyung.” 

impatient, he means. overeager, he means. 

‘in love’ is what namjoon wants him to mean. 

“yeah, i know exactly what you’re like,” namjoon tells him, because that’s true and for now, it can be enough. 

namjoon just wants to know jungkook. he just wants to stay by his side and let himself enjoy every second of that; let himself have this, at last. 

it doesn’t matter that it’s not quite the way he’d imagined it could be. and it still might get there, eventually. they’ve got time. there’s no rush. 

“and i love you, i love everything i know about you,” namjoon tells jungkook, and he only pulls jungkook tighter to him when jungkook’s response to this is to try and hide his face in the side of namjoon’s neck. 

they cuddle the whole way home, jungkook half on namjoon and namjoon’s arm holding him there, his hand on jungkook’s back slipping up under his hoodie to find bare skin, the slide of his hand on jungkook’s body grounding him more than he knows how to begin to comprehend. 

they hold hands in the elevator, and they don’t let go when they step into the apartment, toeing their shoes off and swinging their hands between them when they walk in, which prompts hoseok to clap for them and yoongi to say “oh thank fucking god.” 

jungkook kisses namjoon in front of them both, just to be a brat, or maybe just because he can, and namjoon kisses him back a little later, when they’re both in namjoon’s bed and half wrestling to try and press their freezing cold feet to one another’s calves. 

namjoon pins jungkook for just a second, for barely even that, but when he uses his advantage to lean down and kiss jungkook, all the fight just falls out of jungkook. his hands declaw themselves from namjoon’s shirt and he lifts his arms up around namjoon’s neck instead, crosses his wrists behind namjoon’s head with his body a suddenly languid and giving thing underneath him. his thighs fall open on either side of namjoon’s waist and it’s like he unfurls backwards against the sheets. puts himself on display under namjoon. welcoming. inviting. 

when jungkook lifts his head up off the mattress to kiss namjoon back, namjoon accepts it. he lifts up a little, pulls back so he can just look down at jungkook - lying beneath him, in his bed. kissing him. staring right back up at namjoon like he loves him, even if it’s maybe not in the way that namjoon loves him. namjoon feels like a wave that wants to crash down over jungkook, that wants to envelop him entirely; drag him under and keep him, keep him always. have him forever. 

“goodnight, yeobo. have sweet dreams,” namjoon tells jungkook, rolling off of him before his arms can give out. before his heart can tumble right down out of his ribcage to land with a splatter on jungkook’s chest. 

“already am,” jungkook says, following namjoon when he lies down on his side and curling up against his back, folding his arm around namjoon’s side and searching the sheets until their hands find one another. 

this is so much more than namjoon ever thought he’d get to have. it’s more than he’s ever wanted with anyone else by miles, and it’s with jungkook. 

namjoon falls asleep happy, that night. 

he’s not totally content, but that will come in time. 

for now, this is so very much more than simply ‘enough.’

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon is scheduled to record in the main studio today, so while he’s in the booth jungkook is curled up on the couch rifling through some of namjoon’s old TOEIC workbooks. his concentrating face makes for pretty compelling motivation, and namjoon is done much, much quicker than he normally is, even gives himself a pass on a couple of things he’d previously have raked himself over the coals for, if the alternative means that he gets to throw himself down next to jungkook sooner. 

“if i start skipping out on production meetings to watch you nap, will you divorce me?” he asks jungkook, who openly scoffs at him. 

“please, hyung. what’s the point in napping if you’re not napping with me?” 

and oh, no. that’s too cute. that’s far too cute. namjoon has to lie with his head in jungkook’s lap for a solid twenty minutes while hyowon plays with the mix. namjoon could be working on his verse, could be re-working what he’s already happy with until he’s sure beyond doubt that he hasn’t even almost made any mistakes or missed an opportunity to explain himself better, but his mind isn’t working that way these days. doubt isn’t nearly as terrifying a thing to namjoon lately. 

jungkook is still working, still reading, and he’s humming the new somi song as he does and namjoon is scared, but it’s a good kind of fear. it’s not destructive. it doesn’t hurt him, or set him against himself. it’s jungkook, singing softly under his breath now and namjoon’s fear makes him careful, makes him tentative, but that’s only because he’s approaching something huge. something big enough to eat him whole in one bite. jungkook isn’t paying any attention to him whatsoever and namjoon wants to marry him. 

“hyung, could you stop it? you’re distracting me,” jungkook whines, and namjoon squints up at him. 

“i’m not doing anything?” 

jungkook touches his index finger to the bridge of namjoon’s glasses and pushes them slightly higher on his nose. 

“are you kidding me? lying here like this? looking like this? iu sunbaenim could walk in here right now and i’d just ask if i was imagining it, or if you really are somehow even hotter with glasses on.” 

namjoon laughs. well, he giggles, actually. 

“i don’t think iu sunbaenim would really have thoughts on the matter either way, ‘guk.” 

jungkook frowns down at him and swats at his shoulder with his workbook. 

“don’t insult iu sunbaenim like that. she only has the best taste in things, hyung. she’d think you’re hot as fuck. and she’s never wrong.” 

“um,” namjoon doesn’t quite know what to say. “thanks? i think? maybe i’ll send her a coffee truck.” 

he reaches for the cuff of jungkook’s shirt, him waving his workbook around having alerted namjoon to the fact that the sleeve of his flannel is half folded back, but slipping down over his wrist. he holds jungkook’s arm still above him with one hand and quickly, neatly folds the cuff properly with the other. 

“you look good today, too,” namjoon says, looking up at jungkook and finding him still staring at namjoon’s hand banded low around his forearm. “you look good every day.” 

when jungkook’s eyes come to meet namjoon’s, he blushes and he has no idea why. 

jungkook smiles at him, wide and cheeky. 

“but would iu sunbaenim agree with you on that, hyung? because it doesn’t count if she wouldn’t.” 

“she would, you little brat,” namjoon brings jungkook’s wrist to his mouth and pretends to bite at it, snapping his teeth gently against his skin. 

“well then it counts and you’re valid, babe,” jungkook tells him very seriously, and namjoon resists the urge to suck on jungkook’s thumb for jungkook’s sake more than his own. 

hyuwon’s phone buzzes on the mixing desk, startling them both, reminding them that they’re not alone, and he stands up and waves the phone at them, pointing outside as he lifts the phone to his ear to answer the call. 

“where’s the mark of my validity, though?” namjoon asks jungkook, tilting his head back into the dip between jungkook’s thighs so he can look up at him again. “shouldn’t i get some kind of royal seal, or something?” 

“well, i don’t know if it counts as royal,” jungkook dips tosses his workbook into the cushions of the other couch and puts both hands on either side of namjoon’s face, his thumbs soft against his cheekbones, “but here you go.” and then he leans down and presses his mouth to namjoon’s, a seal of something far better than royalty. 

“oh, your majesty,” namjoon pretends to swoon, and jungkook grits his teeth at him. 

“keep that up and i’ll have you whipped by the palace guards,” he threatens, and namjoon’s laugh is a bright and loud thing. 

“and who are your guards?” 

jungkook shakes his head at namjoon. 

“taehyung hyung and seokjin hyung, obviously. i succeeded yoongi hyung to the throne by beating him in a sword fight and jimin hyung is my loyal assassin. hoseok hyung used to attend to me, but he dressed me in one too many public incidents waiting to happen so now i just pay him exorbitantly to be my friend. duh, hyung.” 

namjoon stares at him. 

“i probably don’t want to know what my backstory in this elaborate historical au of yours is, do i?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. 

jungkook, to his credit, doesn’t outright blush. he only pinks up a bit. it’s cute. 

“probably not, if you want to be able to look me in the face again today, honestly. sorry chagiya.” 

“don’t be sorry,” namjoon tells him, pulling jungkook down with a hand hooked around the back of his neck so he can rub their noses together. “it’s my fault for needing to look at you so much. although, that’s kind of your fault for being so pretty.” 

“hyuuuuung,” jungkook whines, rubbing his nose against namjoon’s cheek, the happy crinkle of his eyes all namjoon can see of him, from so close up. 

“yes, your majesty?” namjoon asks, mock-reverent, and jungkook growls at him, this time. 

“don’t start something you can’t finish, hyung,” jungkook tells him, and it’s funny, because namjoon kind of wants to tell him the exact same thing. 

“i’ll finish everything i ever start with you, jeon jungkook,” he says, and he means it as a promise, not a threat. 

“we’ll see about that, yeobo,” jungkook says, like it’s a challenge he accepts. 

it’s not a game, but it is - namjoon thinks; he suspects; he hopes - something they both can win. 

together.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon wakes up to still warm sheets and the gentle hum of voices. 

he stretches, curling his toes against the sheets and knotting his fingers in a pillow - his, though it smells like jungkook’s shampoo, when namjoon presses his face into it - and rolls his neck when he sits up. he pushes the sheets off and figures he’ll make the bed when he comes back. he dips into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth, washing his face quickly and perfunctorily just because his morning routine is set at this point, and then he goes off to find the source of the sounds he woke up to. 

seokjin is in the kitchen, watching yoongi cook breakfast and namjoon wonders if it would help at all if he were to take a picture of the way seokjin’s face looks when he’s watching yoongi deftly slice spring onions. maybe that could be the comparison that finally makes seokjin acknowledge that taehyung looks at him the very same way whenever he does the bare minimum incredibly competently? 

yoongi grunts at namjoon as he passes them and seokjin throws a tangerine at his head. namjoon catches it, stares at it in his hand in pleased surprise and then puts it in the pocket of pajama pants to eat later. 

namjoon means to go and grab his watering can so he can fill it up in the kitchen, but when he gets to the sunny nook that they all call his ‘nursery’, he finds jimin and hoseok already laid out across the sunshine bright floor underneath the windowsill, helping one another stretch. jungkook is stepping over their terrifyingly far apart spread legs to get from plant to plant, the watering can held in one hand so he can touch the leaves ‘good morning’ with the other. 

“ - know if he’s watered them already?” jimin asks as he reaches out for hoseok’s hands and then pulls hoseok to lie face down in the space between them. 

“that’s like asking how do parents know they’re not both feeding the baby, hyung,” jungkook says, not looking back at jimin, going on his tip toes to peer into the pot of a hanging plant, “you ask the baby. you check the soil. and what’s the alternative? just let him do it all the time? i’m not a dead beat dad, hyung.” 

he’s wearing one of namjoon’s hoodies. he’s only wearing one of namjoon’s hoodies, and when he stretches his arm up to tilt the watering can’s sprout down at the topmost plants’ pots, the hem slips up his thighs to show the bottom of his briefs. namjoon thinks a lot of things at once. he thinks about jungkook, bent over with his hands on the windowsill, the hoodie pushed up around his ribs and his briefs around his ankles so namjoon can get on his knees between them and get at jungkook’s ass face first. he thinks about stripping his clothes off and sliding in between jungkook and the window, gripping jungkook to him with his hands in his own hoodie on jungkook, jungkook fucking him up against the window where anyone could see. 

“good morning, chagiya,” jungkook says, and namjoon hadn’t even realized that he’d turned around, that namjoon is staring at the front of his thighs now instead of the back. “you can sleep more, if you want. i’ve got this.” 

and he certainly has. he’s got this, but all namjoon has got is whiplash from trying to respond to his … whatever jungkook is, when he’s lost in thoughts of all the incredible marital sex they could be having. 

namjoon blinks hard a couple of times and coughs to clear his throat, but it doesn’t help. he almost steps on jimin and hoseok when he moves to get to jungkook, but they’re used to him so they dodge him easily, shaking their heads at him when he ruffles both of their hair as he passes them, stepping over their legs and trying not to stand on their hands or feet. jungkook has to hold the watering can awkwardly out to one side, but he doesn’t seem to mind when namjoon wraps himself around him. he puts his face between jungkook’s neck - which smells like him - and the folds of the hoodie - which smells like them. 

“g’morning yeobo,” namjoon’s voice is a rumbling thing, and his hand on jungkook’s back is more technically actually maybe on jungkook’s ass, so he can’t imagine why jungkook is shivering in his arms. namjoon’s the one that feels like he’s vibrating at a frequency so high that he’s about to shatter apart like he’s made of glass. 

“damn, i want what they have,” jimin says wistfully, and hoseok does something that makes him hiss out a breath, maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure. who knows. who cares. 

“nah, you just want them,” seokjin says, and namjoon hadn’t heard him follow him in here, but that’s probably because he’s still trying to climb into jungkook’s body in front of their children and half of their group. 

“i can want to get felt up first thing in the morning and want to get felt up by them specifically, hyung, i’m great at multitasking,” jimin says and it’s dumb, but it makes namjoon hold onto jungkook harder. his arm around jungkook’s waist tightens, lifting a little until jungkook stretches up for him and namjoon can properly bury his whole face past the neckline of the stupid hoodie that jungkook makes look like designer clothes made specifically to fit his perfect body. 

“oh, we know,” seokjin says, his voice sounding closer now, but still namjoon can’t make himself pull away from jungkook. “you and your boyfriend are unparalleled in that, or so i hear.” 

“you wouldn’t have to just hear about it if you’d let us fuck you already, hyung. it’s a good time. ask hobi-hyung. or yoongi-hyung.” jimin’s voice is purely matter of fact and namjoon doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. hoseok only hums in agreement and this definitely doesn’t help. 

“almost a full set, huh?” seokjin muses, and it would be fair to say that he doesn’t sound disinterested. but jungkook’s hand pushes up under namjoon’s shirt then, slipping up and up and up along his back until he can put his hand in between namjoon’s shoulder blades and encourage him closer, pull him in more, and namjoon kind of doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else is saying or doing or not doing. 

until - 

“not even almost, hyung,” hoseok interjects. “you’d only tip the scale. there’s seven members of this group, remember?” 

jimin and seokjin both make slightly differing dismissive sounds that namjoon thinks he really likes. they’ve been hugging for a solid minute now and neither of them is making a move to separate themselves. namjoon slumps against jungkook a little more, and jungkook sighs the same way he does after he cracks his back. 

“yeah, i can count, thanks hope-ah. but you can’t seriously think those two would let anyone else at either of them. look at them. the commitment, hobi. the sheer greed,” seokjin says, and namjoon thinks fondly of a time when people didn’t talk about him and jungkook like they weren’t even in the room. 

“no one has any hope with them. unless … maybe in a few years? maybe once the magic is gone? me and tae will definitely give it a shot then, for sure, you’re welcome to join us.” jimin says all of this like he’s thought about it and namjoon has to close his eyes. that doesn’t actually help him not think about other people touching jungkook, but he still has to try. 

jungkook has turned his face in so that his mouth is pressed to namjoon’s temple, and when namjoon’s bottom lip finds the line of jungkook’s collarbone he doesn’t think about it, he just opens his mouth around it. he listens to jimin idly talk about wanting to fuck jungkook and his teeth just close around jungkook’s collarbone, just enough for him to feel. jungkook goes rigid against him and when namjoon lets his tongue dip forward to taste jungkook’s skin, his hand between namjoon’s shoulderblades becomes the scratch of five fingernails, his hold on namjoon clawed now. 

“in front of the kids _again_!?” taehyung sounds genuinely offended this time. even yeontan yips in agreement, pausing in his audible attempts to escape the harness taehyung puts him in for walks to do so. namjoon is going to make both of them wear collars with bells. 

“you suck, babe,” jimin says sunnily, and namjoon hears it when he kisses taehyung hello. though he’s loathe to, he starts to extract himself carefully from jungkook’s person as slowly as he can. “i think i speak for all of us when i say that we were all hoping they were about to fuck in front of us. thanks for ruining that.” 

“we would never!” jungkook protests and namjoon’s heart drops to the floor between his feet. “not even in your wildest, sickest dreams, hyungs.” jungkook steps on namjoon’s heart as he crosses the room to get to the plants next to the bookshelf. 

what is namjoon doing. what is he thinking, sucking on the collarbones of someone who loves him but loves him as a comfort, as warmth and support that he needs but does not want more than? namjoon would almost force himself to fuck jimin and taehyung, if only to assure jungkook that namjoon can be interested in people who aren’t him. if only that were true. 

“hyung, were you cooking? without me?” taehyung’s pout is audible and also very generously evident. namjoon can’t blame seokjin for the way his eyes linger on taehyung’s mouth. how easy namjoon’s life could have been if he’d just let taehyung bribe him with blowjobs instead of pictures of jungkook, even if he was asleep in them. even if namjoon still looks at them once a day at minimum. even if he has on occasion thought about having them framed. how woeful a life namjoon would lead, if he wasn’t in love with jungkook, he thinks. 

“now that the kids are fed, do you wanna come for a jog around the complex before we’ve gotta get ready to leave?” jungkook asks, setting the now empty watering can back down in its spot because of course he even knows exactly how much water it takes to get the job done perfectly. of course he does. 

“sure, chaigya,” namjoon says, and when jungkook crosses back to him and reaches for his hand, namjoon gives it to him. and then he kisses him. properly, but very briefly. professionally, almost. 

he’s an emotional support husband and that’s cool. that’s dope, honestly, when it’s for jungkook. 

namjoon is going to rock this. 

when they get back from their jog and jungkook is getting dressed for the day after his shower - why he needs to shower in namjoon’s room is beyond namjoon. why he insists on pulling back on the hoodie that has already ruined namjoon’s life today, namjoon would really like to know - namjoon catches sight of a very faint mark low on his throat. a slight redness, ringed around his collarbone, where namjoon’s mouth had left its impression. 

and that’s fine. 

namjoon only feels maybe 80% like crawling under his bed to hide and cry, so that’s just fine. 

20% will to live? 

he’s performed full concerts on less. 

he’s got this.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s a terrible thing, to be sharing a bed with jungkook. 

they still switch between namjoon’s room and jungkook’s in a pretty even trade-off, just so neither of them is constantly away from their own stuff. jungkook clears out his closet at some point and that leaves him with some unexpected extra space that he tells namjoon he should sort some of his stuff into, offers to help him with even, but namjoon doesn’t want to push his luck. jungkook has his own toothbrush in namjoon’s bathroom and neither of them are shy about wearing one another’s clothes, so it works as it is. 

which is to say that namjoon’s already got to deal with sleeping next to jungkook and seeing him in namjoon’s clothes and any more than that might actually kill him. he still doesn’t know that this is going to last, that this isn’t just something jungkook wants or needs for now, so even though he knows he wants this always, he doesn’t let himself get used to that idea. he can’t. 

another super handy ( read: absolutely excruciating ) thing about them sharing a bed all the time now is that it really facilitates jungkook’s love of first thing in the morning kisses. 

every single morning he lifts his head or rolls over and the second he opens his eyes and sees namjoon, he smiles with his whole face, his shoulders wriggling sometimes like he’s trying to smile with his entire body. his eyes instantly slip shut again and namjoon still feels the happy curve of his mouth when he stretches up or leans in to kiss namjoon good morning. 

it’s a very special kind of far too much, the way jungkook kisses first thing in the morning. he’s messier about it, kissing namjoon off center and sleepy still, his mouth plush from sleep, his hands not yet shy about touching namjoon. sometimes he reels namjoon in for it by grabbing him by the strap of his tank top or the front of his shirt. sometimes, namjoon sleeps shirtless specifically so jungkook will slide his hands around his ribs, around his waist, to pull him close. 

it’s different to how they kiss throughout the day. that’s still the way it had been before - something they do to punctuate moments, to say hello, to say goodbye, to say ‘hey, i didn’t see you for forty entire minutes and i’m so glad you’re back.’ 

their goodnight kisses are namjoon’s time to shine, though. jungkook’s got their first kiss of the day covered and they trade off on it all day long, but night time has come to be namjoon’s solo stage. that’s how he thinks of it, at least. he doesn’t think jungkook has failed to notice how it goes, because he gets a different kind of energy when they’re getting ready to go to bed. he flitters around namjoon, coming in and out of his space and always making it known that he is there but never making a move to kiss namjoon, not even when he could, when he’s got a genuine excuse to. for example, when namjoon is next to him. when namjoon is sitting on the bed watching him get changed and has to curl his fingers down around the edge of the mattress so he doesn’t reach for jungkook. when namjoon is next to him at the bathroom sink, their arms brushing together, and namjoon feels lightheaded at the sight of jungkook’s wet mouth. when they’re passing one another on their way to and from the shower and namjoon wants to say ‘hey, water conservation is a very serious global issue, i think we should shower together because i feel really very strongly about the importance of me getting to be next to you when we’re both naked.’ 

jungkook could kiss namjoon during any of these moments, but he doesn’t. it’s like he’s waiting. it’s almost like he’s looking forward to namjoon being the one to come to him - to kiss him - for some reason. 

for his part, namjoon tries to put it off for as long as he can. he waits until they’re in bed together, because that seems safer somehow than kissing jungkook when they’re next to a bed but not in it, yet. namjoon could try to turn this into something that it’s not, if he kissed jungkook when they were standing next to a bed or sitting on it, but if they’re under the covers then it’s time to sleep. they’re just cohabitating husbands about to rest together, and namjoon could never bring himself to ruin the magic of that. the quiet, domestic joy of it. 

“hey, goodnight babe,” namjoon says, moving into the middle of the bed so that he and jungkook are facing one another from their respective pillows. jungkook’s mouth drops open a fraction, his tongue wetting his bottom lip, but he purses his lips together for it when namjoon stretches into his space to kiss him. sometimes jungkook will put his hand on namjoon’s neck or even up into the back of namjoon’s hair, when they kiss like this, and that’s definitely not not a factor in these being namjoon’s favourites, of all their kisses. 

“g’night baby,” jungkook murmurs, staying where he is like he means to sleep almost kissing namjoon, so namjoon is the one that has to pull away, but he only does so to wriggle down lower under the covers so he can sleep with his nose pressed to the warm skin of jungkook’s chest. 

jungkook lifts his arm up around namjoon’s shoulders, his hand resting low at the front of namjoon’s neck, familiar and grounding at namjoon’s throat. 

as usual, jungkook falls asleep quickly. 

and namjoon isn’t far behind. 

jungkook’s presence is the warmest, closest, most gentle and loving kind of comfort namjoon has ever known. 

and namjoon wants this forever.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s not often that namjoon lets anyone else tease jungkook, not when he’s within earshot, not even when it’s other members of the group, but this one instance seems like it could shed some light on some things for namjoon, so he tentatively allows it. for now. at the first sign of jungkook’s even possible displeasure, namjoon is ready and prepared to wage war. 

“a gaming set-up!? that’s what you’d need for your ultimate happiness?” given that seokjin’s answer was a ‘three people’s lifetime supplies of food, but just for me,’ namjoon’s not sure he has a leg to stand on, in this, but he waits to see what jungkook will say, at least. 

“i was put on the spot, hyung,” jungkook protests, pulling his tie off with a ferocity that suggests he’s probably irritated with himself for his answer, too. “i was expecting to be asked one of the same twenty questions we always get asked. that one came out of nowhere.” 

“but a gaming set-up? you could have at least said a recording studio or something. you could have even told the truth - these two fools did,” seokjin nods at jimin and taehyung, who had each instantly answered one another. 

at this, jungkook makes a loud ‘psshing’ sound that kind of makes namjoon feel queasy. it’s fine that jungkook doesn’t need namjoon as much as namjoon needs him. it really is. it hurts some, still, but what they have is already more than namjoon ever expected. this is fine.

“why would i tell the truth?” jungkook says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “that’s not what they want to hear, and anyone who has been paying attention to us for longer than five minutes already knows what the real answer is, hyung. subtlety is like the only thing i’m not basically gifted at.” 

seokjin slants a look at namjoon that namjoon doesn’t understand. 

“and what’s the real answer? refresh my memory, please, jungkook. as you like to remind me, i’m very old. my brain is starting to malfunction in my senility,” and even though seokjin waggles his eyebrows at jungkook in what can only be described as an inciting manner, jungkook merely rolls his eyes once. and then he actually answers. well, sort of. 

“rapmon hyung. obviously, hyung,” jungkook says, gesturing at namjoon a little jerkily, his eyelashes lowered so namjoon can’t make eye contact with him, can’t see what’s in his eyes when he says this. 

“ah,” seokjin says, “of course. that is in indeed incredibly obvious. just imagine how blind someone would have to be to miss that. it’s mind boggling, truly.” again he levels a significant look at namjoon, and yet again, namjoon finds himself lost. 

it’s totally normal, that jungkook would choose him as being integral to his happiness. namjoon was why jungkook found himself here where he is, even if namjoon still doesn’t quite understand jungkook’s hero worship of him, even when jungkook was literally a child. namjoon represents a lot of positives, to jungkook. it’s entirely reasonable - expected, even, to some - for him to say that namjoon is central to his joy. 

it’s maybe not quite as acceptable the way hearing this makes namjoon feel like someone has just set firecrackers off in his blood, his cells ringing out like sirens. 

he makes jungkook happy. 

he makes jungkook happy and it makes jungkook happy to sleep with him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to stay by his side. 

that’s not everything, that’s not even nearly the sum of it for namjoon, but that’s so much when it’s from jungkook. it can be everything, if he gets to have it with jungkook. 

every time they kiss now, or jungkook puts his hand on the small of namjoon’s back when they’re standing somewhere together, or everyone laughs at namjoon for racing sometimes to get on set so he’s not too late to claim the seat next to jungkook, it feels like something _more_ is filled in or unlocked, between them. 

every single day now feels strewn through with moments that answer jimin’s question to namjoon. ‘what else is there?’ amounts to this: almost, almost everything. 

all that’s really missing still is certainty. jungkook telling namjoon exactly what this means to him. jungkook letting it mean the whole world to namjoon. 

during the interview, namjoon had given some bullshit answer about needing a fully equipped studio, but that’s not the truth, he wasn’t being honest either. not with the interviewer, not with whoever was listening, not with himself, not with jungkook. not with the others, either, but he’s got a feeling that they already know that. he’s pretty sure they knew this particular truth of his even before he did and instead of that upsetting him, it only makes him more sure that this was always going to be the way this goes for him. 

that jungkook was always it, for him. 

“you’re my happiness too, ‘guk. you make me so happy,” namjoon tells him later, when they’re alone. when they’ve gotten home and cleaned up after their schedules, when they’re fed and dressed in comfortable clothes and jungkook has pushed namjoon up against the stretch of wall outside the laundry room to kiss him just because. 

“same, hyung,” jungkook says, and it’s not, not really, but that’s okay.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it hits namjoon all of a sudden, all at once. 

it’s the middle of the night and he’d woken up needing to pee, easily detangling himself from jungkook because it’s become automatic to him now, every part of this is comfortable and familiar to him. 

but then he stumbles back into the bedroom after washing his hands, and he’d left the light on so he wouldn’t trip over anything on the way back, but an extra added affect that he hadn’t thought to brace himself for is how the light spills across the bedroom floor far enough to reach jungkook. just far enough to softly illuminate the lines of him, stretched out across namjoon’s sheets. his arm thrown out across the bed, reaching out for namjoon, searching for him even in his sleep. 

he’s a dream, is the thing. he’s the best dream namjoon’s ever had, but he’s here. he’s real and he’s stitched through every moment of namjoon’s life, sewn into every part of him. 

namjoon crosses the bedroom floor as quietly as he can, coming to stand by jungkook’s side of the bed to look down at him. he’s kicked most of the covers off in his sleep, as usual, and his shirt is rucked all the way up to his chest on one side, his sleep shorts twisted and bunched in a way that looks uncomfortable and his mouth is open slightly, his breathing almost a hum when he breathes out. it’s jungkook, just the way he’s always been, just the way namjoon has always seen him, but he’s got his own side of namjoon’s bed now and it’s different, namjoon realizes, to be in love with someone when they’re right next to you but still not something you’ll allow yourself to want. it’s a different thing entirely, when that person has come a little closer to you physically, but you’ve let the idea of them get all the way inside, to soak right into you until they’re a part of you now, the idea of them no longer an idea at all, but a living, breathing, feeling thing that you find you would fight until your last breath to keep alive. to keep safe within you. 

just like seokjin had predicted, it all comes together for namjoon at once. the whole of it revealed to him just like this; in an instant, in the dark of night. 

when namjoon climbs back into bed next to jungkook, he reaches for him first. he touches him before jungkook can come looking for his warmth. he lies next to jungkook, on his belly with his face turned so he can look at jungkook right next to him, and he reaches out with one hand to feel the rise and fall of jungkook’s chest. the life of him. the gorgeous, stunning reality of him. 

understanding, at last, is what changes everything for namjoon.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

plausible deniability is something that namjoon instantly, deeply misses. 

the jury is still out on whether or not namjoon is actually a thinking being or instead just a person shaped entity born on this earth to be totally destroyed by jeon jungkook, but somewhere along the way, namjoon has picked up a thing or two whether that was ever his intended purpose or not. 

so he’s not entirely stupid. 

he knows that millions of people are in love with the idea of jungkook that they construct and lovingly tend to for themselves. he knows that a fair amount of people who have met and to some extent actually know jungkook are also in love with him. 

this has never been a concept that namjoon struggled with. or, he doesn’t struggle to understand it, at least. he’s struggled with it in plenty of other ways, but as a premise it’s entirely logical to him. it’s harder for him to understand how someone wouldn’t be in love with jungkook. for obvious reasons. 

when confronted with new knowledge or an actively unfolding situation in which someone - again, wholly reasonably - tries to flirt with or date jungkook, namjoon has even leaned into his understanding of the subject. his expertise on the matter, if he might be so bold as to say. and thanks to the wonder and beauty of cognitive dissonance, namjoon has pretty often been able to convince himself to keep his feelings for jungkook at bay and out of the light by focusing instead on all the other people who want him. all the other people who could probably love jungkook better than he could. who could make him happier than namjoon would. 

but that was before. 

and here - after - there is this; 

“again?” yoongi asks, incredulous and hoseok throws his head back and cackles. 

“yep. that’s four so far, right? and it’s only day two of these promotions. this could get ugly, honestly,” taehyung really does look kind of scared, which only serves to make namjoon angrier. the handle of the chair he’s sitting in groans under his grip. 

“nah,” seokjin says, trying to put his own hair up into space buns in the mirror, “you know what he’s like. he doesn’t even read the whole message, let alone reply. the manager hyungs don’t even check now before telling other managers that jungkook doesn’t want to exchange numbers with their artists.” 

“and yet they still keep trying,” yoongi muses, sounding a little confused but not nearly as incensed about this whole thing as namjoon would like. as namjoon is going to make mandatory for the whole group, somehow, he decides. the leader’s singular decree and only rule: if jungkook is being hit on, you are to be incensed. outraged. actively combative, if necessary. 

“i hope they never stop,” hoseok says without looking up from his phone, “if i ever get down on my luck i’d be set for life with the kind of blackmail material that kid’s dms provide.” 

seokjin’s nod of acknowledgement smacks far too much of something almost like pride. 

“eh, i’m sure they’ll get the message eventually. like, aren’t they embarrassed? do they really think they’re going to be the one to break this very clearly established cycle? that kind of confidence is -” 

“fucking stupid,” namjoon interjects, and seokjin drops the comb he’d been using to smooth back his flyaway hairs. “it’s completely pointless and totally fucking stupid,” namjoon says again and he knows that everyone is staring, but jimin just had to go play bodyguard for jungkook because he can’t even go to the bathroom without getting hit on by beautiful people who always seem to think they have a shot with him, and namjoon is fucking sick of it. 

“it’s a waste of their time and jungkook’s, because jungkook has already made his choice. jungkook picked me to make him happy, and he doesn’t need someone else. he’s never going to need anyone or anything that i don’t give to him, so everybody else needs to get a fucking clue already and get their fucking shit together accordingly.” 

namjoon isn’t sure if the silence that follows his outburst is in respect of his tone, the volume, him actually speaking on this issue for once, or the copious and emphatic swearing that he’s found himself driven to. he really doesn’t give a fuck, though. he’s simply at long last fresh out of fucks to give. 

even when jimin clears his throat from the doorway and namjoon can see jungkook’s dark head of hair right behind him, his head dipped so namjoon can’t see his face, namjoon doesn’t panic. he doesn’t care. because what he said is true. this is the truth of them and who they are to one another and namjoon’s not going to pretend otherwise or second guess his certainty of it for another nanosecond. no matter how this goes, no matter what jungkook does or doesn’t want from namjoon, he has picked him. namjoon’s love for jungkook is no longer content to remain a passive thing. it maybe never was. and now it’s something he can’t deny - to himself or to anyone else. 

jungkook chose him, and namjoon is choosing him right back.

“that’s the most romantic shit i’ve ever fucking heard,” jimin says, coming to stand by namjoon and offering up his fist until namjoon bumps it. 

“watch your fucking language,” yoongi says from his seat across the room, but he’s smiling when he does, one of the proper ones, all gums and unholy delight. 

jungkook doesn’t say anything, but as soon as namjoon climbs into the car he’d thought he would be sharing with hoseok today, jungkook pushes his way in after him and then nearly pushes namjoon horizontal across the seats to kiss him not once, not even twice, but three separate and distinct and distinctly overwhelming times. 

a few days later, hoseok idly mentions to namjoon that he has recently inherited the financial responsibility of taking care of hoseok should he fall upon hard times, and namjoon doesn’t ask what happened to jungkook’s dm blackmail cache, but he does accept hoseok’s claim to however much of his money he should come to want or require. 

fuck money, namjoon is in love.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s taking a while for the crew to figure out the hydraulics of the lift, so namjoon and jungkook are sitting on the platform together while they wait. everybody else is gathered around jimin’s ipad, switching between monitoring sections of their stage from yesterday’s run through, and laughing and cooing at cute videos of yeontan. 

nobody is paying any attention to them, so namjoon doesn’t say anything when jungkook decides he wants to sit in the cradle of namjoon’s crossed legs, essentially both in and on his lap at the same time, because jungkook has always been an overachiever. 

namjoon can’t kiss jungkook like this, not with people around, so he settles for pressing his lips to the back of jungkook’s neck. 

but this does doesn’t settle jungkook. 

it doesn’t seem to sit right with him at all, in fact, because he instantly sits heavier in namjoon’s lap somehow and tips his head back over namjoon’s shoulder. it’s not an audible thing; his low groan something that namjoon feels instead, and oh, he’s in trouble. jungkook turns his nose up into the hair behind namjoon’s ear at the same time as he slides both hands slowly up the insides of namjoon’s thighs, the lack of lighting down here and his voluminous sleeves concealing his actions. namjoon can feel from the way that jungkook is lying back against him that his eyes are closed, and he’d marvel at that if he didn’t have to lock all his thoughts down at once when jungkook’s mouth finds namjoon’s earlobe and his teeth set around it to gently tug. 

namjoon’s wearing shorts, which had seemed like a good idea until right now, because jungkook’s thumbs are up under the not exactly long legs of said shorts, and his hands are big, hot on namjoon’s bare skin and he’s probably going to catch on fire from this, but he’s not surprised. jungkook has always made him feel at least slightly volcanic; mercurial in a way that he can never predict but hasn’t ever found in himself the will to fight. namjoon doesn’t care what he is, who he is, how he is. he just wants to be what jungkook likes. he just wants to be who jungkook wants. he wants jungkook to let him love him. 

it hurts namjoon somehow, pains him in some very primal way, to not be able to kiss jungkook’s mouth right then. so he kisses the base of jungkook’s throat instead. he ducks in close in the dark and presses his mouth to the flutter of jungkook’s pulse. jungkook’s hands on namjoon’s thighs are no longer passive explorers, his fingers digging in then, hard and satisfying around the stretch of namjoon’s muscle. the sound jungkook makes is loud in namjoon’s ear, but doesn’t travel beyond them. his helpless, breathless little moan is just for namjoon. 

“oh,” namjoon says, low and stunned, his heart beating on his tongue and his lips brushing against jungkook’s skin, still. “do you like it when hyung kisses your neck?” 

jungkook takes a breath before he answers, almost the inverse of a gasp. his mouth is at the hinge of namjoon’s jaw now and namjoon sits so still underneath him, sits patiently and waits for jungkook to eat him alive. 

“like it when hyung kisses me anywhere,” jungkook’s voice is dark and low. a heavy, rumbling thing, every word striking namjoon like a bolt of lightning. “i love when hyung kisses me,” he adds, and namjoon holds his tongue between his teeth so he doesn’t do something very stupid with it, instead. 

one of jungkook’s hands come up to reach for namjoon’s face. he’s heavy in namjoon’s lap but languid against him, melted back over him almost and the hand that’s most of the way up inside namjoon’s shorts now slides torturously slow up over the rise of muscle until his hand is gripping the outside of namjoon’s thigh instead, pulling it up and in against himself when he shifts down, all twisting hips between namjoon’s legs. he lifts his head to look at namjoon when he gets his hand on namjoon’s face, namjoon’s jaw held firmly between jungkook’s thumb and fingers so he can turn namjoon’s head to face him. 

his eyelids are low, his gaze shuttered with something that steals namjoon’s breath right out of his chest, and then his eyes drop to namjoon’s mouth and namjoon knows even before it happens that this kiss is going to be different, that this kiss is going to turn him inside out. jungkook holds him still for it, holds namjoon exactly where he wants him, and then he’s leaning in with his eyes slipping shut and his nose brushes against namjoon’s and namjoon doesn’t mean for it to happen but his mouth falls open a little and then jungkook is right there, and - 

the lift jolts underneath them, jostling them together. 

even as someone from the crew is crowing about their mechanical victory, namjoon and jungkook are swearing in unison, maybe in pain - because they’ve just knocked their foreheads together - but also maybe in something more like frustration, more like total and utter anguish, because namjoon’s pretty sure he’s just cut his own lip open on jungkook’s teeth and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. 

“hey do you want me to forward you this video,” taehyung calls up to them, not even batting an eyelid at how jungkook is still in namjoon’s lap and namjoon is bleeding from the face. “yesterday yeontan -” 

“i hate yeontan. i hate you, hyung,” jungkook calls back, automatic and loudly sullen. he climbs out of namjoon’s lap so he can sit on his knees next to him and carefully examine namjoon’s cut lip under the flashlight on his phone. “i hate everything and everyone,” he adds under his breath, so only namjoon hears. 

“wow, rude. and uncalled for. hurtful, honestly,” taehyung says, and then he’s wandering off again, probably to make jimin kiss his ouchies better or to sexually proposition another member of their group or maybe just to pout hopefully at seokjin and see what happens.

jungkook growls lowly out of sheer displeasure it seems like and namjoon giggles at him, wondering how it’s possible to feel lightheaded when the platform they’re on has only lifted them about three feet into the air. he feels like he’s full of fizzy lifting drink. he feels like he just got catapulted through a glass ceiling that didn’t even slow him down. jungkook is cradling his face in his hand, so very gently compared to the way he’d all but yanked namjoon where he wanted him a moment ago. namjoon finds it kind of impossible to decide which of these kinds of treatment he likes more. he suspects that he likes anything that means jungkook has got his hands on him. 

“you don’t hate me, though, right?” namjoon asks, not doing a thing to stop jungkook or try to help when he pulls a tissue from his pocket and starts to gently dab the blood off namjoon’s lip. he’s entirely content to just sit there and let jungkook take care of him. 

“no. you i love. you i lowkey adore, hyung,” jungkook says, absentminded about it as he concentrates on the task at hand. namjoon loops his arms around his waist and pulls him in against him, hugs him just because he can, smiling even though it stings now because holy fuck is he happy. he’s kind of delirious with it. 

“so are you two going to live up there now? i don’t know why i’m surprised that you took ‘love nest’ so literally, but i guess i overestimated you both for the first time in history.” 

when they turn together to peer down into the gloom below them, seokjin is standing staring up at them with his hands on his hips. when they get lowered back to the floor and start to clamber back onto solid ground together, he shakes his head. 

“i know there’s a joke to be made here about chicks finally flying the coup, but i just can’t make it work against the larger framework of your epic gay love. sucks,” he muses, shaking his head at himself now, it seems. “but oh well, we’ll save that one to the drafts, hmm?” 

when he walks away, jungkook and namjoon look at each other with matching expressions of aged, familiar disappointment on their faces. 

“are we … judging hyung in unison right now, yeobo? damn, we really are that annoyingly in sync married couple, aren’t we?” jungkook looks nothing but delighted by this. 

“you bet your hot little ass we are,” namjoon tells him, because has he mentioned? he’s in love and he doesn’t give a fuck. 

it kind of feels like a revisition of his underground rapper days, only with more bowing to capitalism and less terrible haircuts on his part. 

“hyung!” jungkook says, pretending to be scandalized, and when namjoon swats at his ass playfully, he laughs and takes off running. 

namjoon, as usual, is instantly at his heels.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

things keep changing, after that. 

a lot stays exactly the same. they’re doing all the same things, still, but the way that they’re doing them is different almost every time now. 

when namjoon showers in jungkook’s room, jungkook comes in to brush his teeth and wash his face. namjoon kisses jungkook goodnight and jungkook kisses him back and then namjoon kisses him back again and it can go on for a while, like that. they’re sweet kisses, chaste exchanges and namjoon doesn’t think he’s the only one who feels like they’re not quite enough, not anymore. 

sometimes jungkook climbs into namjoon’s lap to kiss him now, and sometimes namjoon knows whether jungkook is wearing underwear today or not because his hands don’t only stray up under jungkook’s shirts when he touches him, not anymore. 

it’s a slow but certain erasure of anything and everything that’s still keeping them apart. they were already right next to each other, constantly together, but this is the last and final step in the process - the overlapping of their lines. 

sometimes, namjoon puts his hand on the back of jungkook’s neck when he kisses him. sometimes he does it just because, and every time jungkook just stops. he goes still no matter where they are or what he’s doing and he looks at namjoon like he’s asking for something. like he’s paused and waiting for permission. no matter what namjoon says or does, it doesn’t seem to be the right answer because jungkook moves on, slowly unfreezes and continues with whatever they’d been doing like he’s just woken up from something that namjoon wants him to return to, wants to join him in. wants to chase him down into.

everything they do is different for the forward straining momentum of it. the tension that only ever increases, only ever becomes more and more and more but hasn’t boiled over. 

not yet. 

not until -

o o o 

one of the only real luxuries jungkook has afforded himself even after becoming a millionaire is the very lovely, plush chaise lounge that he’d bought to put at the end of his bed. namjoon’s pretty sure jungkook had only gotten it to make sure the rest of them knew they were welcome to come hang out in his room, because no matter how much jungkook matures or grows up or changes, accommodating his hyungs will stay a part of him. they’re his safe space and every single one of them would put their lives on the line for him. sometimes namjoon can’t believe how lucky he got - falling in love with someone who is already precious in his own right to the rest of the people that namjoon loves, already central in all of their lives. 

whenever someone comes to spend time in jungkook’s room, he pushes them automatically in the direction of his little reception area and then goes instantly to his mini fridge to get them a drink. he’s learning not to be so afraid of being alone, not like he was when he first became part of this, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever quick to let someone leave once they’ve come to spend time with him. he no longer needs or wants company just for the sake of not being alone, but if one of them is the company on offer, he knows he’s not just getting company. not really. he’s stopped relying on them completely, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not still important figures in his life, every single one of them, pillars and platforms that don’t shape but still guide and support his growth. jungkook is very well loved, and not just by namjoon. 

he’d fretted for days after his chaise lounge was delivered, changing his sheets to see which ones it sat best back against, moving his bed twice to see if the chaise lounge looked better in different places in the room, in different lighting. he’d fretted for weeks before he’d settled on buying it, too, going to each and every one of them for advice that they’d all very seriously thought about and patiently given, even when they didn’t give a fuck about furniture or interior design, because that’s not what this had been about. not to jungkook. 

he had a lot of expensive things, just like the rest of them, and he’s gotten better at accepting that for some parts of their lives - for their jobs and for some of their hobbies that in essence themselves make their careers easier to survive - he needs things that he has to spend a lot of money on in terms of quality, purely on the basis of need and not want. 

but the chaise lounge had been his first splurge. his first not totally necessary big spend. 

namjoon has maybe kind of claimed the seat for himself, at this point. the first time he’d sat very carefully on it, guided there by jungkook’s gentle hands and watchful, nervous eyes, he’d bounced a little and declared instantly that he loved it. jungkook had sighed happily and told him that the color of his pants matched the chaise lounge perfectly. as time went on and jungkook steadily built up enough of a cache of pictures of all them of them sitting or lying - or in taehyung and yeontan’s case napping - on it that sitting on it no longer meant volunteering for an off the clock photoshoot, namjoon got more and more comfortable here. now he lies or sits on it almost every day. when he’s not in or on the bed with jungkook, he easily throws himself down onto it to read or work when jungkook is in his gaming chair quietly, confidently destroying total strangers on graphically generated battlefields or whatever. 

tonight, they’re both dressed for bed already but namjoon is only one chapter away from finishing his novel so he’s sitting cross legged on the lounge while jungkook is already laid out on top of the covers, his phone held up over him in the air. 

they read each other so instantly, so easily now, so totally and purely instinctively that in between the click of jungkook’s phone getting locked and the dull thump of it hitting the sheets, namjoon has slid his bookmark into place. 

“yes, chagiya?” he says, tipping his head back against the bed so that he can look up at jungkook when he comes into view above him, crawling on his hands and knees to look down at namjoon, upside down. 

“nothing, hyung,” jungkook says, smiling at him as he looks at him, but only a little. only slightly. his mouth purses as he seems to think about what he’s said. “well. yesthing, actually. nothing specific. but still. things, you know?” 

namjoon tilts his head and reaches up to tuck jungkook’s hair behind his ear. it’s getting long again, waving out some, and it’s cute. it’s other things, too. maybe some of these yesthings that jungkook is talking about. 

“what kind of things?” he asks, and jungkook decides to show him, instead of telling him. 

when jungkook dips down towards him, still upside down, namjoon thinks of the kiss that started all of this. but when jungkook leaves his mark this time, it’s not on namjoon’s forehead. this time, namjoon isn’t frozen in place, isn’t entirely unprepared for it and panicking. this time, namjoon is reaching up with one hand to tug jungkook down by the collar of his tshirt and when jungkook breathes in a sharp breath, he ends up kissing namjoon soft mouthed, his lips parted. this time, namjoon pushes up into it, lifts his chin and kisses jungkook back, and then it’s not just jungkook kissing namjoon or namjoon kissing jungkook, it’s the two of them, it’s them kissing each other and it’s just for a moment, just for a handful of seconds but it’s something. it’s everything. 

they can’t look at each other when they pull apart. jungkook lifts away and throws himself back up across the bed, instantly hiding his face in the pillow that namjoon had had to bring from his own room and namjoon closes his eyes against his view of the ceiling because he doesn’t want to see anything that isn’t jungkook. 

they don’t talk about it, or say anything at all to one another as they climb into bed. 

tonight, jungkook kisses namjoon goodnight. before namjoon can do it, he kisses namjoon softly on the forehead and then he kisses him for real, his bottom lip pressed between namjoon’s and then followed up by that look, that look that asks namjoon for something that he doesn’t know how to give jungkook. he doesn’t know what jungkook wants from him. he’s still not sure what jungkook wants from him, and he doesn’t know how to give it to him. 

jungkook sighs, and rolls over to go to sleep and namjoon knows he’s disappointed him somehow, but jungkook still lets namjoon spoon up behind him, still reaches back for his hand and pulls namjoon’s arm around his waist. 

namjoon tosses and turns for a while, and then for hours. 

and finally, at a total loss for what to do or what to think, he gets up. 

he leaves.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it feels wrong, to be alone in his room. moreso given that it’s night time, and namjoon has forgotten by now what the sheets of his bed look like in the moonlight when they’re not rumpled and strewn around the peaks and valleys his lines make, built on and around jungkook’s. namjoon can’t make himself climb under his covers, can’t bear to build anything with his body alone, tonight. it feels alien to him, to be in his own room like this - to be anywhere, without jungkook, when he could be by his side instead. so much of their time is cut away from them and sold or handed off to others, dictated to them in terms of how and where and for how long they’ll spend it and namjoon can’t always be with jungkook, but he always wants to be. he always wants to be able to choose him, when the decision is given to him. 

it seems like jungkook feels the same way, because as often as namjoon is wherever jungkook is, jungkook is the one coming to find him, racing over to the studio instead of going home after his schedules, switching his gym routine up to come sit on a weight bench to snack and watch namjoon sweat while he licks chip dust off his hands far too enthusiastically and stares off into space. 

it never gets uncomfortable between them. they’ve always got something to talk about, even when that something is absolutely nothing that suddenly becomes everything when it’s jungkook that’s saying it. namjoon wants to know what he thinks about literally everything; anything at all. even now, jungkook routinely astounds him with his take on something; the depth of thought he’s put into it or the angle he picks up on that namjoon had totally missed. they see things differently, but that’s always something to share, something that brings them closer together rather than keeping them apart. 

namjoon knows now that he could spend forever with jungkook and not find himself bored once. 

but he’s not totally satisfied with his lot as it is, either. he wants more and he doesn’t try to deny that to himself anymore. he thinks that however he’d disappointed jungkook tonight, it’s related. because jungkook is always either meeting namjoon in the middle when he takes the lead, or spinning namjoon into his arms to do the leading himself. no matter how far this goes, jungkook doesn’t say ‘enough.’ 

namjoon still doesn’t know how their ‘enough’s compare, though. he has no idea if the more that jungkook might be seeking is anything like his own ideas for them. he’s terrified to ask. he doesn’t how else to find out for sure. but jungkook is the one in active metamorphosis now - jungkook is the one who seemed tonight to find himself in a pot too small to contain him anymore, his roots grown beyond a body of soil that’s not enough to sustain what he has become. 

and what he has become is beautiful, to namjoon. every iteration of jungkook, every single version of him that namjoon has known has been one that he has loved, in different ways at different times, for different reasons, to different depths. 

and now, namjoon feels endless for jungkook. he seems to himself beyond limits, when the question is ‘how much’ and the arrow points to this boy who shares whatever bed he climbs into, this boy who is bigger than namjoon in just as many ways as he’s small, who makes namjoon feel simultaneously like he is infinite but could fit to sit happily in the palm of jungkook’s hand. 

they’ve been growing steadily towards one another all this time, racing lately to meet one another beneath this sun that has risen high and bright in namjoon’s sky, one that he hopes jungkook is just as blinded by, just as changed and nourished by. 

and all this time, namjoon has maybe been thinking of them as two separate entities moving slowly, steadily towards becoming one, even when namjoon didn’t understand what the reality of that might look like, even when he couldn’t let himself fully sketch out the shape of that as he’d wanted it, for longer than he knew how to admit. he’d thought they’d grow up to share the space above their plant pots, their stems intertwining, their leaves layered. 

but that’s not what this is, he realizes now. 

because he and jungkook had kissed tonight, and jungkook had promptly broken out of his plant pot. because jungkook is always one step ahead of him, namjoon realizes now. because this entire time, jungkook has been trying to lead him towards something bigger than the both of them - big enough for them to grow into together. namjoon needs to step out of the pieces of a pot that had broken long ago for him, the pieces a shield he sees now he never needed; a lie that he can’t believe anymore. they’ve got a garden to build, together. 

it’s dawn, by the time it comes to him. 

the sun comes up and a light goes bright in namjoon’s head, a spotlight trained on something that’s been there this entire time. 

jungkook needs something from him, is searching for something in him that namjoon doesn’t know how to show him. doesn’t quite know how to lead him to, because that’s what jungkook does - that’s how this works. jungkook leads and namjoon follows, never for one second worrying about where exactly they’re headed or how they’re going to get there, because nothing else matters once jungkook’s hand is in his. 

he doesn’t know what jungkook wants or needs, what exactly it is that will show him that namjoon understands, now. he can’t know the specifics, can’t know for sure which exact part of the acres inside of namjoon, the hectares that map the way he feels for jungkook will best tell him what he needs to know. 

namjoon can’t possibly pick and choose, couldn’t pick through the stitches of where his love for jungkook is sewn through him if he had a thousand years to do so. he doesn’t want to, because all of it is special, every loop of thread, every single blade of grass. 

he can’t know what’s going to reassure jungkook. 

but jungkook can. 

only jungkook can. 

so namjoon has one choice, really. and it’s one he doesn’t even pause before he makes. 

he’s going to give jungkook everything.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it’s still early, when namjoon knocks on jungkook’s bedroom door. 

when he answers, jungkook blinks up into namjoon’s face with only one eye open, but when he sees that it’s namjoon he blinks hard and then both eyes open wide. he looks back at his bed like it has betrayed him, and then he turns the same look on namjoon. 

“hyung why are you - why did you -” 

namjoon cuts him off. 

“yeah, sorry. but listen - can i kiss you?” 

jungkook sighs. his eyes close for a dragged out beat and when he opens them again, he looks exhausted. 

“i thought we’d moved passed having to ask, hyung. you said -” 

namjoon steps into the room and gently pushes jungkook backwards. he closes the door behind him and when he guides jungkook across the floor, he stays close to him. 

“yeah, no,” namjoon tells him, with his hands on jungkook’s shoulders and his heart already loosed in him. his pulse is a drum beat, his tongue is fire inside his teeth and he’s a wild thing, now, and he knows that like this - with jungkook, for jungkook - he always has been. “i know, ‘guk. i don’t mean that kind of kiss.” 

this seems to properly wake jungkook up. his hands spasm at his sides and when he lifts them, shaking, to namjoon’s hips, he holds on like he’s afraid if he lets go, he might fall. 

“you can kiss me however you want to, hyung,” he says, like the words devastate him somehow. 

and then namjoon lifts his hands to jungkook’s face and he leans in and closes his eyes and - 

it sucks. 

it’s a clash of teeth and morning sour breath and namjoon has been awake for so long that he feels like he can hear jungkook’s panic, and it just … for a hundred reasons, does not work. 

namjoon steps back and bites down on his bottom lip. jungkook’s mouth is wobbling like he’s either about to start yelling or crying. 

and namjoon can’t help it. 

he starts to laugh. 

he laughs so hard, knowing that he shouldn’t only making it worse, and when he can finally look at jungkook through his teary, streaming eyes, jungkook is looking at him like he’s insane. he’s looking at him like namjoon handed him divorce papers. 

namjoon half drags him to the bathroom and hands him a toothbrush, instead. 

“i’m sorry, sweetheart,” namjoon tells jungkook around the handle of his own toothbrush, watching the reflection of jungkook confusedly but thoroughly brush his own teeth next to him. “that was terrible, i’m sorry. but we can try again. we don’t have to be in our heads about this.” 

“but what if i can’t. what if i can’t do it?” jungkook says, after he’s gotten with the program after a few helpful nudges from namjoon and finished brushing his teeth, rinsed his mouth. he’s drying his hands in namjoon’s tshirt now. “i’ve thought about it too many times, hyung. there’s too many tabs open in my brain so my dot exe has stopped running and oh great, now you’re touching my neck,” jungkook shivers under the palm of namjoon’s hand. “normally that’s kind of like the physical version of ctrl + alt + delete, but -”

“jungkook,” namjoon says, gripping a little harder at the back of jungkook’s neck, the hair there grown out long enough to cover half of namjoon’s knuckles, by now. 

“yes, yeobo?” jungkook says, but then he frowns at namjoon with big sad eyes again like he’s not sure he’s allowed to call namjoon that anymore and namjoon has had enough. he takes jungkook by the hand and leads him back into the bedroom, brings him back to the bed they should have slept in together, last night.

“all you’ve gotta do is hold still. if you can’t do it, i can,” namjoon says to reassure both of them, because if that’s what jungkook needs, namjoon will figure out how to do it. he’ll keep trying until he gets it right. jungkook covers for him all the time. they’re both already totally accustomed to picking up the slack where one of them needs a helping hand and this doesn’t have to be any different. this shouldn’t be different. 

“right. hold still. i can do that. i can totally hold still so you can kiss me. you. my rapmon hyung. my husband. who wants to kiss me. properly!” jungkook’s eyes get wide and panicked and he fists both his hands in the front of namjoon’s shirt and shakes him, gently. “oh my god,” he says, low and whooshing with the breath he lets out. “i don’t know if i can do this.” 

fuck, namjoon loves him. he is all the way in love with him and then some and even though that’s nothing even almost new, and even though it hasn’t even been more than a few hours since he last held jungkook, namjoon already can’t wait to have him in his arms again. 

he reels jungkook in with his hands high up on either side of his waist, his fingers dancing up along the warm, lovely lines of him to get there. he’s smiling when he leans in, he’s sure of this, sure that they can figure this out if they tackle it together, and - 

“wait!” jungkook says. shouts, actually. right in namjoon’s face. 

namjoon startles like he missed a step on the stairs, but when jungkook looks at him now it’s with something making his eyes very soft. something endless seeming. something ancient and unknowable, but familiar to namjoon, he realizes. something that he recognizes in a way that’s beyond all of his senses, beyond reason, even. he doesn’t know what it’s called, but he knows exactly what it feels like. 

“not to like, further delay the culmination of what has to be the slowest burn in history, but also just to be totally clear,” jungkook says, and namjoon braces himself, but it doesn’t end up being enough to keep him steady, when what jungkook says next is - 

“i’m in love with you,” jungkook tosses it right out there. a handful of pebbles cracking gently against a window pane in the middle of the night. a rainstorm that comes out of nowhere and only lasts for five seconds but leaves you soaked right through to your skin, changes the smell of the whole world somehow. “and it seems like maybe we’re on the same page. but if we’re not, that’s okay too. this can be your out, if you need one. but you should know that if you choose to kiss me right now, i’m going to get ideas, hyung. i’m going to lose the run of myself, and i don’t know if you’re ready for that, so - ”

“jungkook?” namjoon says, feeling faint and sounding breathless. he’s shivering after the downpour. he’s scrambling to his window to throw it open and lean out on both hands. he’s had a rope ladder ready and waiting for this exact moment. 

“yes, hyung?” 

“shut up.” 

this time, it works because they don’t try to make that happen. they don’t try at all. namjoon turns his face in to meet jungkook’s and jungkook is already waiting for him, looking right into namjoon’s eyes like he doesn’t want to miss a single frame of what he looks like, from this close. and then namjoon is closer still, and jungkook’s eyelashes flutter closed and he tilts his head blindly, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and namjoon’s nose kisses his hello and then his eyes are falling shut too and now their breath is shared. now there’s just the soft press forward until they’re together again, together in this new way, because when namjoon’s lips find jungkook’s, they part to bring him in. namjoon’s bottom lip slots neatly between jungkook’s, and jungkook’s quiet gasp means he gives namjoon his tongue whether he’d meant to or not. 

there’s a pause, a solemn and shocked beat when namjoon can’t breathe and jungkook doesn’t move, but then namjoon is reaching for jungkook’s face and he’s breathing in hard through his nose and he can’t even tell which one of them groans but it doesn’t matter because the sound melts between them, namjoon cupping the curve of jungkook’s jaw so he can feel the way it falls open to kiss namjoon deeper, wet now, hot and soft and the best thing namjoon has ever felt, the only thing he ever wants to do with his mouth again. he can’t help it, he has already lifted a knee up onto the bed to get closer to jungkook but it’s not enough, it’s nowhere close to enough, so he climbs up on both knees, barely breaking the kiss. jungkook’s hands are on him the whole time - supportive at his waist and then helpful when namjoon tries and mostly succeeds in climbing into jungkook’s lap. now that namjoon is where he needs to be, jungkook’s hands are hot against his skin, pushed up under namjoon’s shirt to touch, to feel. his palms slide up over namjoon’s stomach, chased closely by a shiver, and when they climb up over the meridians of namjoon’s ribs to slip around to his back, to hold onto his shoulders and push namjoon forward, bring him in closer, pressed completely against jungkook now, their hearts swing a beat between them like a pendulum. 

it works, not because they’re doing this the way they think they’re supposed to or were told that they should, but because they’re both - for once. at last - doing nothing but exactly what they want. it works, and it gets them here, to this - a kiss that feels like every single moment, everything they ever started together was leading right here, to this. 

to them. 

namjoon pulls back, just far enough to breathe hard and shallow against jungkook’s chin, and jungkook pets at his hair, draws his hand down over the curve of namjoon’s skull to the blazing hot skin at the back of his neck again and again. his other arm falls to curve tight all the way around namjoon’s waist, holding him steady, keeping him close, and namjoon feels loved. he feels more than anything cared for. known and seen and _wanted_. he feels special, because he knows that’s exactly what he is - who he is - to jungkook. 

jungkook, who puts his forehead to namjoon’s chest and giggles. 

“oh,” he says, like he has discovered something. like he found something he’d been looking for, in this kiss. his smile is loud. his joy is radiating out around him, around them, warmth in the way he touches namjoon, love in the way he holds him. “well why didn’t you say so, hyung?” 

namjoon puts his mouth to the crown of jungkook’s hair and hums, his mouth lifted in a grin he can’t hide. his arms find their way around jungkook’s neck, and jungkook sighs contentedly like he’d been waiting for it, like he’d wanted it. he shakes his shoulders a little, a happy wriggle like he’s delighting in the weight of namjoon’s arms around them, around him. 

“i’ve been trying,” namjoon says, “but i didn’t know how.” 

“yeah, i know the feeling,” jungkook murmurs, and his mouth is between namjoon’s collarbones, now. his lips are at the base of namjoon’s throat and the kiss he presses there is hard and sucking. 

“i didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t know how much you wanted to know,” namjoon says between stuttered breaths. around a swallowed gasp, when jungkook licks up along the path of his pulse. his nose is at namjoon’s jaw now, soft and familiar, but when he kisses namjoon’s adam’s apple, there’s nothing patient or chaste about it. namjoon tilts his head back and steps out into the freefall. “so i kinda gave up. decided to just show you everything. give it all to you to pick through.” 

jungkook lifts his head to look at namjoon, and the way he kisses him now is unlike anything namjoon has ever known before. he grabs at namjoon’s tshirt to pull him in, and the warm lines of his knuckles against the bare skin of namjoon’s stomach feel like a brand. he kisses namjoon surely. confidently. he kisses namjoon like he’s sure not just of himself, but namjoon too - of everything, now. 

“i’m not picking through anything, hyung,” he says, his voice a whisper against namjoon’s lips. his eyes are focused; bright like they get when he’s set a goal, when he’s in pursuit of something and namjoon shudders against him, excited and relieved and a little bit scared still, but in the good way. in the best way. 

jungkook stretches up to kiss namjoon on the forehead. and then on his nose. on both cheeks, and then he kisses him properly, until he’s got namjoon’s tongue in his mouth, namjoon gasping loud against his mouth, holding onto jungkook’s shoulders now for dear life, for this life that’s precious to him in a brand new way, because of this. because of jungkook. 

“i want it all.”

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

later on, when they’re lying in bed together because it’s still too early to get up yet, jungkook decides to switch up their routine by kicking all the covers off before he’s even asleep. he rolls over until he’s lying on top of namjoon, his chin propped up on namjoon’s chest. he’s looking at namjoon like he never wants to look at anyone or anything else ever again. 

“say it. tell me again, hyung,” he asks, and namjoon hasn’t actually said it with words yet, but he’s not frightened to. he’s already said it every other way he knows how. 

“i love you. i’m in love with you, jungkook.” it’s a whisper, but it’s not quiet. it’s soft and it is undeniable. it’s certain. 

jungkook tumbles off namjoon, rolling off to starfish in the sheets at his side. when namjoon looks at him, he’s smiling at the ceiling with his eyes closed, his hands spread wide and his feet kicking against the lumped wave of covers at the bottom of the bed. 

“this is it,” jungkook says, “this is what success feels like. this is _it_ , yeobo.” 

every breath namjoon has taken for the last hour or so has felt like it could crest into a sob, but he’s not sad. he’s not scared. he’s whatever’s on the furthest edge of the other side of the scale. ‘happy’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s a good placeholder, the only word that even almost fits, for now, so when he turns onto his front to stack his hands under his head and look at jungkook, on his back next to him, he asks - 

“are you happy?” 

( and what he means is - ‘does this make you happy? do i make you happy?’ )

jungkook rolls all the way back across the bed until he’s right next to namjoon, pressed up against him and half on top of him, weighing namjoon down, anchoring him to their bed, his face ducked close so that he can kiss him sweetly, joyously. 

“happy?” jungkook says, like it’s the least complicated concept in the world, to him, “you’ve always made me happier than i ever was before.” 

“i’m sorry i made you wait,” namjoon says, his cheek rubbing against jungkook’s in apology, “i’m sorry i took so long. i’m sorry if i ever made you feel like you were alone in this, ‘guk. hyung was too stubborn to see that you were waiting.” 

jungkook cheek lifts, rounding out around his smile. 

“hyung just took a little longer, that’s all,” he says, dragging his nose along the line of namjoon’s jaw now, “it’s okay. i wasn’t alone, you just weren’t here yet, is all. you were right next to me, even before you were with me, like this.” 

“still,” namjoon doesn’t know if this would have worked out like this, if it had gone any other way, but on the off chance - “i should have realized sooner. i should have told you before now, i should have -” 

jungkook shuts namjoon up with his mouth. it’s very effective. 

“you’re here now, hyung. and you’re staying, right?” jungkook puts his head on the pillow next to namjoon’s, watching him while he answers but not seeming anxious about it. 

“i’m yours for as long as you want me,” namjoon tells him honestly because he’ll never tell jungkook anything any other way again. 

“oh, cool. forever, then,” jungkook’s smile is all dimples and namjoon kind of feels like crying again. 

he pulls jungkook into his arms, instead. 

it’s still early. still hours before they have anywhere to be or anything to do, so namjoon holds jungkook close and closes his eyes. 

“i love you. i love you, ‘guk,” he says, with his lips pressed to jungkook’s chin and then his lips and then the bridge of his nose and then the space between his eyebrows and then his forehead and then the crown of his head. 

jungkook echoes his sentiment, snuggles in against namjoon’s chest, and then they sleep.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

they appear for their pre-schedule morning gathering hand in hand, which isn’t even slightly out of character for them, but what maybe is is - 

“namjoon hyung and i are a couple now,” jungkook announces as soon as they walk into the living room, the last ones there for probably the first time ever because namjoon finds that he kind of can’t stop kissing jungkook, now that he’s finally started doing it properly, so he’d pushed jungkook up against the bathroom sink, down onto the chaise lounge, and then he’d lifted him up until jungkook wrapped his legs around namjoon’s waist so he could hold him against the back of the bedroom door and kiss him until hoseok started calling them from the hallway. 

everybody stares at them. 

“... a couple of what?” jimin asks eventually, and not kindly. 

“we are a couple,” jungkook says the words slower and lifts their joined hands into the air like this is supposed to communicate his meaning better, but everyone keeps right on staring at them. 

“we’re together,” namjoon says, needing to put a stop to this before someone accidentally hurts jungkook’s feelings and he’s got to hurt them on purpose, “we’re in a relationship. we’re in love.” 

still, they’re met with nothing but blank stares. 

seokjin, at last, seems to finally get it. 

“wait,” he says, peering between their faces in turn with a speculative squint. and then his eyes go wide. “oh my god, did you tell _each other_ that you’re in love?” 

namjoon rolls his eyes, but jungkook must nod, because seokjin is screeching now and yoongi seems to have maybe fainted and hoseok is staring at them in absolute shock. taehyung is lightly tossing yeontan up into the air in celebration and gets himself punched when he turns to try and do the same to jimin. 

“i can’t believe i made it. i honestly don’t know how i survived to see this day,” yoongi says weakly, barely audible over jungkook’s yelled protests when seokjin hoists him into up into his arms and then tries to pass him off to hoseok like he’s a baby. 

“put me down! give me back to namjoon-hyung!” jungkook gripes, which really doesn’t help when he tries to claim - “i’m not a baby!” 

“oh honey,” hoseok coos at him, chucking him under the chin even though jungkook snaps at his fingers, tangling both of his arms around namjoon’s bicep and trying to hide his face in namjoon’s shoulder, then, “you are absolutely a baby. you’re our baby, and now you get to be namjoon’s baby too. you’re baby squared, jungkook. at long last, you have reached your final form.” 

seokjin’s eyes light up at this, and namjoon can already see the bedazzled shirts. he pats jungkook’s head consolingly when he sighs, long-suffering, but doesn’t disagree. 

jimin is looking between namjoon and jungkook, openly contemplative and as usual - namjoon braces himself for whatever jimin is about to say. 

“i can’t decide if i’m more impressed by jungkook exhibiting such unprecedented levels of patience, or namjoon-hyung finally figuring this out,” he tongues at his teeth, considering, “like - jungkook probably had to calm the fuck down at some point, purely for sustainability reasons, but hyung had to realize not only that jungkook is in love with him, but also that he’s in love with jungkook. that’s pretty damn impressive.” 

final verdict reached, seemingly, jimin steps up to pat namjoon on the shoulder. 

and instantly gets his hand viciously slapped down out of the air by jungkook. 

“what have i told you about touching my stuff, hyung?” jungkook says, and namjoon has to look away so that he doesn’t grin like the total fool in love that he is. 

jimin only laughs in jungkook’s face, but taehyung seems to take jungkook’s question seriously. 

“you’ve told us that if we treat your things well and return them exactly as we received them, then we’re welcome to borrow them whenever we want to,” taehyung says evenly, with a totally contradicting gleam in his eye. “so does that extend to -” 

jimin’s hand slaps over taehyung’s mouth at the exact same time as namjoon grabs a hold of jungkook, needing to wrap both arms around his waist and really actually try to keep him from getting across the room to get at taehyung. 

“so, now that we’ve started our day with a relationship reveal and some near bloodshed,” seokjin carefully guides taehyung and jimin to the couch directly opposite to and as far away from the couch jungkook and namjoon settle onto as possible. namjoon doesn’t think it’s for safety reasons that seokjin decides to put himself in the middle when the three of them sit, because taehyung and jimin weren’t the ones fighting. and now they’re both looking at taehyung’s hand on seokjin’s thigh. rather than safety, namjoon decides that this is an act of brave and absolute self sacrifice, on seokjin’s part. he would salute him, if he wasn’t very busy holding jungkook’s hand with both of his own. 

“shall we talk about our jobs? you know - our careers, as global pop sensations?” 

yoongi sighs. 

“well, if you absolutely insist, hyung,” he says, because he knows it’s a necessary evil, but they all know that he hates having to promote or talk about their music to people who don’t even try to get it when he could be like … making it, holed up safe and sound in his own studio or one of theirs, instead. 

they’ve got a full day of interviews ahead for the upcoming comeback and namjoon instantly feels both very fond of yoongi and also some much older, deeper version of that that means he’s going to do whatever it takes to make today bearable for him. 

“let’s give hyung that new label maker we got him for marking his cables,” jungkook whispers against the side of namjoon’s face, and namjoon squeezes his hand and grins at him. 

“you always have the best ideas,” namjoon tells jungkook, playing with the rings that jungkook had let him put on his fingers this morning. 

jungkook looks down at their hands, his head dipped so namjoon can’t see his face, but he can still hear his smile. 

“i kind of do, don’t i, chagiya?”

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

as usual, their whole day today feels like a photoshoot even though they’re only in front of a photographer for a couple of hours. 

in the downtime, in between shots and sets, there’s the bangtan bomb noona wading through their collective antics to look for buried treasure, but there’s also jungkook, who has two different cameras with him today but is trying to film hoseok shirtless with his phone right now. 

when he comes to find namjoon, though, he lifts his canon to his eye. 

“why would you need high def pictures of this,” namjoon asks, trying half-heartedly to bat jungkook out of his way. he’s bare faced, and wishing now that he’d left his make up on. “why are you wasting this on me but immortalizing hoseok’s godly body with an iphone camera?” 

jungkook drops his camera as close to carelessly as namjoon has ever seen him handle it. it thumps against his chest, the strap straining. 

“jimin hyung is right,” jungkook says, shaking his head, “you’re so smart you’ve accidentally looped all the way back around to stupid.” 

namjoon doesn’t disagree with that. he often feels dumb, especially when jungkook is looking at him or standing near him or out in the world doing something that namjoon knows via some kind of sixth sense is devastating, somehow. it’s not an unpleasant feeling. he tilts his head at what jungkook just said, though, trying to remember how to say ‘why do you say that’ with his eyebrows, because he’s always greedy to hear jungkook’s thoughts but he never wants jungkook to feel like namjoon is putting him on the spot. 

jungkook sits up on a countertop and reaches a hand out to namjoon until he comes to him. once he’s in range, he tugs namjoon to stand between his spread legs. 

“you’re like .. wild levels of hot, hyung. insane, honestly. and i’ll get back to that, trust me, we’re going to have a lot of conversations about how unreasonably attracted to you i am, but also, you have to know by now that you’re like … ” here, jungkook blushes. “you’re my muse.” 

even the tips of his ears go red. 

namjoon looks over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear, and then he holds onto jungkook’s waist and leans in to kiss both of his ears, to press his nose into the side of jungkook’s neck just because. jungkook shivers and laughs, his hands slipping down into the front pockets of namjoon’s jeans to tug, restless and impatient. 

“it’s honestly embarrassing, how much footage i have of you. how full my folders of pictures of you are. you’d probably have grounds to get a restraining order against me.” 

“how do i get the opposite of that,” namjoon wants to know. “how do i make it so that i’m not permitted to go more than thirty feet from you, ever?” 

jungkook seems to think namjoon is joking, because he only huffs a fond sounding noise of disbelief at him. 

“i even won an award for my use of you in my work, hyung,” he insists, sounding genuinely proud in a way that he rarely does. 

and honestly, they win a lot of awards, so many that namjoon struggles to keep track, but he’s pretty sure he’d have remembered jungkook getting awarded for taking pictures of him. 

“remember that one gcf? where i got you to do a boyfriend shoot with me before we were even boyfriends? and then i had that sequence where that shot of you looking at me brought color to the world?” 

and of course namjoon remembers that. he’d kind of struggled with it, at the time, but back then he’d known enough about himself to know that he wasn’t ready to look at exactly why that was. he’d saved himself a lot of unnecessary angsting, honestly. good looking out, namjoon of the past. 

“that was definitely art,” namjoon says, because he thinks everything jungkook does is beautiful and important. if it makes it into jungkook’s final cut or final edit, it’s perfect by definition in several different regards. “but you got an award for it?” 

“yup,” jungkook pops the ‘p’, still unusually proud, for him. “yoongi hyung had it made. have you never looked at the inscription on the gold cup on top of my speaker?” 

namjoon had assumed that was a joke. something to do with gaming. he shakes his head, because it’s never felt like something worthy of further investigation, to him. jungkook should have more gold cups, is his only feeling on the matter. 

“it says ‘in recognition of creatively unashamed and artistically disguised confessions.’ it’s the only award i keep in my room,” jungkook says all of this with a smile, his fingers still pushed down into namjoon’s pockets. his legs are kicking in the air on either side of namjoon’s knees and he’s just casually sitting here laying all of this out for namjoon, laying himself bare before him. 

“taehyung bribed me with pictures of you,” namjoon blurts, because he’s still clumsy about this. his feelings are huge and he’s kept them bottled up for a long time and now there are a lot of moments when it feels like they’re all trying to burst out of him at once, when jungkook is like this - in front of him, so open with him - and everything inside of namjoon clamours to get to him, desperate to reach him.

jungkook, appropriately, gasps. 

“that’s what it was? after all these years, that’s what finally did it?” jungkook seems astounded. “hyung,” he sounds disappointed, now, “those pictures weren’t even in focus. and the towel kind of ruins the aesthetic of the whole thing. like, i know it’s mostly slipped off, but still, the fold of it is at total odds with …” he trails off, seeming to register something that namjoon’s face must be communicating, though namjoon himself isn’t sure what that is. he kind of feels like he just stuttered, but existentially. physically. “ … you weren’t talking about the naked pictures, were you?” 

“no. taehyung bribed me pictures of you sleeping in the car. not naked pictures of you. which he could have bribed me with. because he possesses those, apparently.” 

jungkook only shrugs. 

“it’s taehyung,” he says, like that explains it, and upsettingly, it actually does. “i’ll tell him to delete them? if you don’t like that he has them?” 

and now namjoon is a whole new kind of baffled. 

“why would that matter? i don’t care if you don’t care, they’re your pictures, ‘guk. my brain just did a factory reset at the thought of you naked, is all.” and now that namjoon thinks about it - “taehyung was probably looking out for me. i’d definitely have dropped my phone. i’d probably also have broken my wrist.” 

jungkook’s knees are suddenly tight on either side of namjoon’s hips. 

“hyung,” he says, low and urgent, “do you mean - are you saying -” his eyes are huge. his legs are wrapping around the back of namjoon’s thighs like creeping vines. “hyung.” he’s whispering now. “have you jerked off thinking about … me?” 

namjoon has to throw his head back to laugh, both from the force of it and because of how close jungkook has pulled him. 

“are you kidding? please tell me you’re joking,” he has to beg of jungkook, because even though namjoon’s eyes are starting to stream, jungkook is still looking at him askance. like he’s not sure of anything. “jungkook. ‘guk. i’m in love with you. and i have been for like … a while. i know that physical attraction isn’t always part of that, but it is for me. with you. like … a lot. i think you said something about ‘unreasonable’ levels of it? it’s the same for me. probably worse, actually. you know what i’m like.” 

horny, is what he means. 

“i mean, we all know what you’re like,” jungkook says, and namjoon would maybe pause to feel absolutely zero shame about that, but jungkook goes on before he can, “and thanks for that, it totally helped this whole thing stay super manageable for me when i had to listen to you jerk off in the shower most mornings. so sweet of you, hyung,” he rubs his nose against namjoon’s chin, the tip of it shining with namjoon’s moisturiser when he pulls back. “but i didn’t think you’d think about specific people? you’ve always been kind of … abstractly inclined?” 

namjoon thumbs at the round of jungkook’s nose because he can’t stop looking at it, he loves the shape of it. 

“so you thought a lot about what i think about when i jerk off, but it never occurred to you that that might be you? i hate to break it you, babe, but i think we’re both stupid.” 

“what was i supposed to do? lie there and wonder if you were touching yourself thinking about touching me? and not die?” 

“you were lying there in a bed that we were sharing, ‘guk,” namjoon points out gently. “and i was never actually in the shower, i just used the spray as a cover in case i got too loud or slipped up and said your name.” 

at this, jungkook swears. 

“hyung,” his hands are fisted in the front of namjoon’s sweater now, and namjoon wonders idly if the necklines of all of his shirts are going to end up stretched out from how much jungkook seems to like pulling him close like this. god, he hopes so. “at some point in the very near future, i’m going to absolutely blow your mind. i just need you to know that. prepare yourself for it, if you think you can.” 

and honestly, it comes across as leaning pretty heavily toward the ‘threat’ side of things, ‘promise’ a distant concept. 

namjoon shivers in anticipation. 

“okay, yeobo. i’ll ready myself for that. i’ll make myself available for you.” 

jungkook grins at him, and it involves a lot of teeth. a generous hint of dimple, too, which kind of makes namjoon’s knees buckle. 

it really doesn’t help that jungkook pushes him away from him firmly and then slips a searching hand into namjoon’s back pocket as he follows him out, his fingers getting very friendly with the shape of namjoon’s butt cheek indeed. 

“my life is a dream,” jungkook says, and what’s uncanny is how namjoon was just about to say the exact same thing.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

the next time they’ve got a day off, they’re already planning on spending it together, but when he wakes up, jungkook asks if they can make it a date. 

“i know we’ve already been on a bunch of dates that we didn’t call that, but i want to go on one that we do call that. if you want? if you’ll let me?” 

he’s got a spectacular bedhead, and he closes his eyes when namjoon starts to massage the tension out of his shoulders, because he’d gone hard in the gym last night and he’s got to be sore, even if he’ll never actually say so. he moans when namjoon digs his thumbs into a knot to the side of his spine, and namjoon takes this as his cue to start his day. 

“get up,” he tells jungkook, doing so himself and going to the closet to start rifling through the stack of shirts he’s amassed here in jungkook’s room. “get dressed, and take me on a date, before i decide that you’re not getting out of that bed today, instead.” 

he tosses a folded up shirt at jungkook, because he’s sitting up now and looking at namjoon with open, naked interest and he’s mostly naked himself, so namjoon has to do whatever he can. he has to survive this somehow. 

they get trussed up in their incognito mode outfits, which means jungkook is wearing black combat pants, his stomper boots and a hoodie that’s oversized enough that namjoon could probably tug it down off one shoulder. if he were so inclined. which he has not given himself permission to be. namjoon is dressed the way he always is, linen and washed out, neutral tones, because no-one ever recognizes him, anyway. 

jungkook drives them about an hour outside of seoul, just in case, and namjoon sits on his hands in the passenger seat so he can’t do anything irresponsible. jungkook is always hot, but when he’s driving it’s next level. he reverses into a parking spot with only one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of namjoon’s headrest so he can see back over his shoulder and he’s lucky that he gets it right first try ( he’s not lucky at all, he’s incredibly skilled, and that’s so much worse ) because as soon as he kills the engine namjoon is reaching for him, twisting up over the gear stick to kiss jungkook soundly. 

“i hope you don’t thank all our drivers like that, hyung,” jungkook says, when namjoon pulls back. he’s still looking at namjoon’s mouth, dazed. 

“only the ones that are my boyfriend,” namjoon says, and jungkook visibly jolts. 

“i know i’ve had a few days, but i don’t think i’m ever going to get over how good that sounds.” 

as usual, namjoon totally agrees. 

they spend the afternoon walking. they’ve come to a seaside town that jungkook looked up online and it’s a weekday, deep enough into autumn that it’s starting to get chilly, so there’s not many people around. they walk through the village, nodding politely to any of the locals who pause to pay them attention, but mostly they move unnoticed. they eat together in a tiny place they stumble upon, their knees knocking together under the plastic table and the windows fogged up around them, adding to the charm of what feels like a secret mission, a romantic adventure in subterfuge. afterwards, they follow the path out to where it extends out along the harbour, and there they sit together on the rocks and watch the waves. 

“is it weird, that just being with you makes me so happy? that even when we’re not doing anything or saying anything, i just want to stay like this, with you?” 

there’s a note of vulnerability in jungkook’s tone that namjoon hasn’t heard in a while. in years, maybe. since jungkook was young, still, in ways that weren’t all to do with his age. 

“it’s different, getting to do this,” namjoon says, because that’s how it feels, to him. “we’re almost always together, and even when we don’t have to be, we still are because of how we live. i want to be with you that way,” he says, looking out at the horizon instead of at jungkook. “but getting to be with you like this is a big deal. i want this, too. i want this even more, if that’s possible.” 

jungkook doesn’t speak for a moment, and when namjoon turns to face him, he’s looking up into the sky, looking to where the moon is already visible even though the sun won’t go down for hours, yet. 

“because we can choose this. because we could spend this time however we want, wherever we want, with whoever we want.” he does this a lot. they do this a lot. namjoon starts a sentence and jungkook finishes it, or the other way around. jungkook says something and namjoon says whatever follows on from it. talking to one another has always been easy, even when there was things namjoon wasn’t ready to say, things he didn’t know how to put into words or action, yet. 

“and still, we choose each other,” namjoon says, and when jungkook turns to look at him, he can’t help it. maybe it’s the setting - the gentle crashing of the waves, the swoop and caw of seagulls, the salt air, the bright, cold autumn light - or maybe it’s that they’re here like this, totally alone for once, far away from everything else and with nowhere else to be, nothing to hurry back to. they’re alone, and they’ve got time. and maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s just that it’s jungkook, sitting next to namjoon and turning to look at him like namjoon fascinates him, like namjoon still surprises him after all this time, but for whichever of those reasons or whatever combination of them that builds in namjoon, his eyes well up with tears. 

when jungkook takes his face in his palms, cold from the sea breeze, his eyes are wet too. 

“why are you crying?” he asks, and namjoon sniffles, but doesn’t try to stop or slow his tears. he sets his jaw better against jungkook’s hand, further into his palm. 

“because i’m happy,” namjoon says. “because i’ve never felt like this before, and it’s so much.” 

“too much?” jungkook asks, and a tear spills over the line of his lashes to fall down his cheek. he’s crying because namjoon is crying, so namjoon reaches out and swipes up over the path the tear tracks, takes this tear that’s meant for him in his own hand, shining now in a spill of wetness between his knuckles. 

“never,” namjoon tells him, taking a deep breath that feels like the first, somehow. the first of something new. “it’s just enough. it’s exactly right.” 

“do i make you happy, hyung?” jungkook asks, because he’s always been so incredibly brave. “is this what you wanted?” 

namjoon thinks about it, lifting his shoulders against a wind that stirs within him. 

“i could never have wanted this,” he says, truthfully, and jungkook’s hand is cold in his, when he pulls it down from his face to hold in his own, but that’ll change soon, as they share their warmth. “i always wanted you, although realizing how kind of took me a minute. but i couldn’t have wanted this. i couldn’t even have imagined it, jungkook. you’re beyond anything my mind could ever have built. you’re a dream, right here next to me.” 

jungkook is quiet. he sits silent for a long moment. 

“i thought you might always be just a dream for me, hyung,” he says, finally, and then namjoon’s tears are something else. they’re the sea, but in him. they’re salt that doesn’t sting. they roll through him like waves, coming again and again and again and they will cease, but not now. there’s more to come. more to feel, for now. 

namjoon reaches for jungkook and finds him already moving, already halfway into namjoon’s space. they fold together like they were made to fit that way, their bodies locking like they’re falling into place. 

they hold one another close and sit like that, together in silence that they welcome. 

they hold the heat of one another, hands clasped and knees knocking together. the breath in their bodies comes to echo the rise and fall of the waves, and when namjoon tucks his face into the side of jungkook’s neck, he finds a rough patch of skin that jungkook must have missed when he was shaving. he rubs his cheek against it until the scratch of it almost stings. there’s a thread spooling loose from the string strung through jungkook’s hood, and one of his earlobes is a little red around his earring like sleeping on it had been uncomfortable. he smells like perfume and shower gel, both clean, light scents that pair together perfectly, and namjoon puts his nose to jungkook’s skin until he can smell him, underneath them both. the heat of him, the salt of his sweat. 

jungkook isn’t still, in namjoon’s arms, but his movements are searching, not restless. he slips his hand up under the back of namjoon’s jacket and traces the bumps of his spine through his tshirt, and then he drags his hand back down and pushes it under namjoon’s tshirt to travel the same path across bare skin, this time. his chin sits into the hollow above namjoon’s collarbone and rocks there, like it’s trying to find its place. he doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, but he hums against namjoon, a note that extends out and out and out the longer they sit like this, the sound so low that namjoon has to strain to hear it over the water, under the seagulls, past the yell of fishermen and the bustle of a harbour that feels a thousand miles away but goes on around them, undisturbed and entirely unaware. 

they shiver together against a breeze that carries the promise of rain, and as the sun starts its slow descent, they rise from the rocks, hand in hand. 

they go home.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

“tell me about … ” jungkook is lying on the carpet next to the bed, which he does sometimes because he likes to ‘be low.’ that makes sense to namjoon, who has tucked his legs and three cushions up underneath himself in the window seat, because sometimes he likes to be up high. jungkook is sketching, and namjoon is trying to wrestle his feelings into words by hand, for a change. “oh! tell me about a time when you thought about kissing me.” 

he’s not looking at namjoon, so he misses the pure disbelief that namjoon broadcasts in his direction. 

“you’re going to have to be more specific, babe,” namjoon tells him, and he has no idea why this makes jungkook laugh. 

“okay,” jungkook puts his pencil between his teeth while he thinks, and namjoon almost snaps his pen in half. “tell me about a time when it was especially hard not to kiss me.” 

“all the times i’m not kissing you are especially hard. you know how i feel about wasting time ‘guk,” namjoon says blithely, just to make jungkook laugh again. 

“c’mon, yeobo. you know what i mean. a time when you thought you might die if you didn’t get to kiss me.” 

namjoon puts his notepad aside and caps his pen to sit on top of it. he crosses his arms and settles against the window, the glass warmed by the afternoon sunlight at his back. 

“okay,” he says, not even almost struggling to remember a time like jungkook means, because it comes to him instantly. “remember when you and the other vocals rapped ‘ddaeng’ for muster? when we were practicing for that, just you and me. being alone with you in that room while you rapped my parts was …” he sighs, as he thinks back to it. “part of me definitely died that day. the single cell i still possessed by then that wasn’t completely feral about your concentration face.” 

the way jungkook is looking at him isn’t not judgemental, which namjoon doesn’t really appreciate. 

“did you ever watch back the videos of that performance?” he asks, begging jungkook to understand, even a little bit. “did you see what you looked like? how well you did? you know i have a competence kink, jungkook. it was mean, what you did that day.” 

“no, hyung,” jungkook says, his feet kicked up into the air as he leans down, really concentrating on shading a section of what looks like a sketch of a pokemon. bulbasaur, namjoon thinks. solid choice, for sure. “what’s mean is how seokjin hyung and hobi hyung filmed my reaction to hearing your verse on that for the first time, and then blackmailed me by threatening to show it to you unless i volunteered to take that part for muster.” 

“oh,” namjoon hadn’t really put any thought into why the vocal line had split up the parts the way they had. it always just made sense to him that jungkook would take his part. even before he’d known exactly what unholy wonders jungkook would unleash with it, he’d just automatically assumed. “you liked that?” 

“is it very shocking to you, to hear that i find it hot as hell when you not only rap - which is hot enough as is - but also insult people in devastatingly complicated and nuanced ways? and how low your voice is on that song? the stuttering? please, hyung. i have impeccable taste. i learned from the best, after all.” his eyes are bright, wide with something like mischief. 

“your iu sunbaenim?” namjoon guesses, but jungkook shakes his head softly. 

“nah, although i bet she knows all the words to that song. i should see if she wants to start a group chat with me,” he looks like he’s genuinely contemplating starting a bts fan group chat with iu. he looks terrifyingly serious about it. 

“but if she didn’t shape your impeccable taste, who did?” namjoon wants to know. probably yoongi. he’s like a version of namjoon that’s just as whipped for jungkook, but in a different way. a much more put together way. he functions better than namjoon does in the face of everything jungkook does except the crying. the crying, neither of them can handle. 

“you, hyung,” jungkook says, grinning. and then his smile dims. “and seokjin hyung, a bit. even though i tried to actively do the opposite of what he said, most of the time.” he shakes his head, mouth twisting into a grimace. “i should have listened to him when he said i should keep rapping. i didn’t realize you were so into that. how did i miss that?” 

“in your defense,” namjoon tells him easily, without shame, “i’m into everything you do, so it makes sense that some things wouldn’t especially stand out. you couldn’t see the trees for the forest, you know?” 

“that’s not how that expression goes, hyung,” jungkook corrects him lightly, and namjoon finds even that hot. he tells jungkook so. 

“that’s probably the least surprising thing you’ve ever said to me, hyung,” jungkook says in return, and namjoon thinks he’s developing a new kind of crush on jungkook right now, because the look that comes across his face when he’s this sure of - this confident in - namjoon’s attraction to him, is kind of captivating. 

“you’re staring, hyung,” jungkook says, not even looking at namjoon anymore, smiling down at his drawing instead. 

“i’m looking respectfully, chagiya,” namjoon says, the first part in english, and jungkook flips his sketchpad closed and climbs to his feet. 

“you think flirting with me in english is going to save you, hyung? i’ve been studying,” he says, his hands reaching for namjoon’s to pull him up off his perch in the window. “i’m on to you, there’s no hiding from me, now.” 

namjoon doesn’t say that he never wants to hide from jungkook, not really. he also doesn’t say that he wishes jungkook was on him. like right now. but his face must say at least some of that for him, because jungkook falls backwards onto the bed and pulls namjoon with him. before jungkook can even bounce back against the mattress, namjoon is tugging at him to roll them over, to get jungkook spread out on top of him. 

“how is it this stuff that’s easy for you? nobody’s ever going to believe me that you’re this smooth when we’re alone,” jungkook says, his weight balanced between his hips and his hands planted in the sheets on either side of namjoon’s head. 

“it’s because i don’t think about it. i don’t think at all, when it’s just us.” another one of namjoon’s brain cells dies as he feels up over the solid lines of muscle in jungkook’s arms, the firm curves of his biceps. 

“i make your brain go quiet, huh?” jungkook asks, smug about it, and namjoon would take a picture of that look on jungkook’s face if he had a camera to hand. if he had the ability to do anything except lie underneath jungkook and bask in the weight of him on namjoon, the way he looks holding himself up over him and staring down. 

“most of the time,” namjoon agrees. he lifts his head to rub their noses together, but instead of smiling like he usually does, jungkook’s gaze goes sharp. his eyes drop to namjoon’s mouth. “but sometimes you make my brain scream.” 

“i bet your brain isn’t the only thing i could make scream for me,” jungkook says lowly, confident, and then he holds his weight on one hand so he can reach to thumb at namjoon’s lower lip, illustrating the conclusion of his hypothesis. he’s not wrong to be so confident, but it’s rude of him, namjoon thinks. or maybe it’s something in namjoon’s reaction to it that’s the problem, because probably he shouldn’t be even more into someone who he’s already incredibly into luxuriating in the knowledge that he is putty in their hands. that’s not something he should broadcast. 

“i’m yours to do whatever you want with,” he tells jungkook, because plenty of things that he should and shouldn’t do are reversed because of how jungkook twists him inside out. all universal truths are up for debate, with jungkook. namjoon’s seen him defy all kinds of set rules and standards. for example: he was already the hottest person namjoon had ever seen in his life. he’s that every single day. but now that namjoon is permitted to touch him? it’s like he’s getting hotter somehow. namjoon kind of wants to dare jungkook to take on gravity, just to see if he can. and he wouldn’t be at all surprised to see him do so. and win. 

“that’s a dangerous thing to say to me, hyung,” jungkook warns him, his hand at namjoon’s hip now, his fingers dragging across the skin bared between the hem of namjoon’s shirt and the waistband of his pants like they’re not sure whether they want to explore north or south territories today. it doesn’t matter to namjoon. all of it is jungkook’s to traverse. 

“do your worst, baby,” namjoon says, closing his eyes and tipping his chin up to the ceiling to give jungkook more room to work when he ducks in close to put his mouth to namjoon’s throat, his tongue hot on namjoon’s pulse. 

“do you wanna touch me, hyung?” jungkook asks, his lips deceptively sweet against namjoon’s adam’s apple when it bobs under his gulp. 

they haven’t really gone further than a whole lot of kissing, and some uncontrollably wandering hands on their respective parts when they get lost in that. they’re busy and it hasn’t become imperative yet. every moment has seemed like it could be the right one, but neither of them have pushed it. not knowing when it’s going to happen kind of makes namjoon feel like he’s sweating all over, tossing and turning in a heat that can only be cut through by the breeze that is jungkook’s body on his, his bare skin touching namjoon’s. but namjoon kind of likes the wait. knowing that relief is coming makes the ache almost sweet. 

“yeah. yes. i want to touch you,” it serves namjoon well that he can’t think when jungkook’s got him like this. it makes everything so very terribly easy for him, because he never gets the chance to mess things up by second guessing himself, by fretting for so long that he misses his chance. 

“say please,” jungkook taunts lightly, his thumb tracing the curve of namjoon’s hipbone down underneath his waistband, his fingers tight around the muscle there, his grip solid. 

“please, jungkook. please. let hyung touch you,” namjoon almost parrots, except it’s himself he’s repeating. the voice in his own head that echoes out loud. he begs for jungkook often, there. he thinks of it as practice, for a time such as this. 

when jungkook doesn’t say or do anything else, namjoon opens his eyes to look up at him. jungkook is staring down at him in wonder - some version of it with the light bulbs smashed out of it, dark in a way that for reason alone, shines - and namjoon feels it coming before he starts to tremble. 

jungkook shifts on top of namjoon, brings his knees up on either side of namjoon’s waist so he can sit aside him, and reaches for namjoon’s hands, holds them both above namjoon’s head with his fingers locking them back down against the sheets. 

“how badly do you want me, hyung?” jungkook asks, like that’s a question there’s an answer to. like it can be quantified. 

“so badly,” namjoon barely breathes. he doesn’t dare try to move his wrists. he’s as still as he can be, for jungkook. “so, so very badly.” 

jungkook narrows his eyes at him, his head tilted a little like he’s considering. 

“hmm,” he says, and namjoon kind of wants to cry. 

“like … i might cry,” namjoon says, because it’s important to share these things. it’s best that jungkook is prepared, not least of all because they’re both sympathetic criers. 

“oh, you ‘might’ cry?” jungkook asks, and his voice freezes namjoon’s blood in his veins. even before he starts to climb off namjoon, namjoon sees it coming. he’s powerless to do anything to stop it, which is to say - he could very easily stop it, but he doesn’t even almost want to. he wants jungkook, but he needs this to be on jungkook’s terms. “then i guess you don’t want me badly enough, yet.” 

the ‘yet’ hits namjoon like a bolt of lightning, his spine ramrod straight and his toes curling inside his socks, because some part of him has been waiting for exactly this. some part of him unfurls under the heat of this - jungkook taking control. jungkook wielding that control easily, sure and adept at it. 

namjoon is eager, impatient and wanting. 

but jungkook will tell him when he’s wherever and however jungkook needs him to be.

it’s namjoon’s turn to wait. 

and he doesn’t mind one bit. 

he might lose his mind in the meantime, but everything about falling together with jungkook like this has been a very lovely kind of madness, so namjoon isn’t about to start worrying about a little lust delirium. 

jungkook’s a fever dream. 

and namjoon’s not ready to wake up.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

it takes far fewer tripes than namjoon had thought it would, to finish transferring their stuff. 

namjoon’s bedroom becomes their office, of sorts, their desks and computers set up in there so that jungkook’s room can be just their bedroom, just their space to be alone together and not working. 

when they’re done, even jungkook looks kind of sheepish, standing at the foot of their bed, looking at where jungkook’s koya plushie and namjoon’s felt dinosaur are observing their new surroundings. 

“we really were already kind of living together, weren’t we?” jungkook sounds amazed. “how did i manage this? how did i finesse you into cohabitating with me before you even knew you had a crush on me? do i have some kind of special powers, hyung?” 

namjoon loops his arms around jungkook’s waist and holds him in a back-hug. 

“why do you ask? do i need to worry about you using them on someone else the exact same way?” 

jungkook tilts his head in against namjoon’s and laughs. 

“no. i need to figure out how i did this so i can make sure no one else does. i’m not sharing you, hyung.” 

“what a shame,” jimin says, leaning against the doorway when jungkook and namjoon startle as one and turn to look at him. “if you ever reconsider exercising those powers of yours, kook, that bed definitely looks big enough for three, if whoever you add was smaller than you both,” he looks between them and the bed, sizing both up, and not exactly passively. “just a little filling between the two of you, all tall and strong and buff. something sweet to smooth out all those hard edges, you know?” 

“have you forgotten the number one rule?” taehyung asks, coming into view with a face as dark as a thundercloud, so there’s no need to ask how much of that he’d heard. “you can proposition whoever you want, whenever you want, but not without me. how could you, jiminnie?” 

jimin winds a hand up into taehyung’s hair and presses a kiss to his mouth, probably meant as a soothing gesture that definitely doesn’t work, because - 

“you’re forgetting one very important clause to our agreement, babe,” he says, gesturing at namjoon and jungkook collectively. “they’re my one and only free pass. they’re my ‘risk it all’ card that i don’t actually have to risk anything for, because we agreed i could fuck them without you.” 

“but that was years ago,” taehyung protests, pouting now. “and i only agreed to it because i never thought they’d actually get it together.” 

namjoon doesn’t know which part of this offends him more, honestly. he’s on the fence about whether he’s going to hold jungkook back or just yell at jimin and taehyung to provide a soundtrack to jungkook’s for once righteous ire, and he’s undecided still when seokjin appears to save the day. 

“okay, that’s enough of that,” he says, grabbing hold of taehyung and jimin both by the backs of their collars and shaking them a little, prepared to haul them away like pups by the scruff of their necks. “no more sexually harassing the happy couple during their housewarming party, please. have some sense of decorum, i beg of you.” 

and namjoon has maybe never been more grateful for him than he is in this moment. 

he’s so grateful, in fact, that he finds it in himself to easily brush it aside when seokjin wanders back their way a few minutes later and corrects jimin’s assertion that namjoon and jungkook need ‘a little snack sandwich’ by informing them that what they need instead is “a guiding hand. a loving, mature hyung who has already helped them through this process but wouldn’t mind helping them out a little more.” 

jungkook kicks the door closed in seokjin’s face, but namjoon thinks seokjin has a point. 

“you want to bang hyung?” jungkook asks, not sounding nearly as dismayed by the prospect as namjoon would have thought, but they can revisit that at a later date. 

“no, ew,” namjoon says, although not with as much feeling as he maybe should. “i meant what he said about helping us. everybody kind of played a part, didn’t they?” 

jungkook looks at him, clearly wondering where namjoon is going with this. 

“i’m afraid to answer that, yeobo, because i’m not totally sure that you’re not about to say you think we should sleep with all of them in thanks, since that’s what they’re all clamoring for. you’re too kind, hyung, you’ve got to stop thinking of others before yours -” 

“i would rather cut my own hands off than let any of them touch you,” namjoon says, and that’s kind of a hysterical reaction maybe, but the thought of anyone else - even them - touching jungkook makes him kind of murderous, which isn’t a feeling he’d previously thought himself capable of. 

“oh, okay. cool,” jungkook says quietly, his dimple pinching tight to try and lock down his smile. 

“but i get it, now,” namjoon says, and jungkook’s brow quickly furrows again. “not them wanting to fuck us, although to be honest i also get that, we’re definitely the hottest possible combination of members of this group since we’re the only combination that does or ever will include you … ” 

( “yeobo,” jungkook says, sounding emotional. ) 

“but i get how we got here, and why it worked out in the end. they didn’t push us, but they were always there to catch us, if we fell.” 

namjoon thinks back to the conversation he’d had with seokjin what feels like a long time ago, now. he thinks about seokjin’s allegory of jungkook on a rooftop, and how namjoon - even before, even when he was still wearing that blindfold he’d tied around his own eyes - had put himself instantly at jungkook’s side. 

“they’re our parachute,” he says, something settling in him at the joy and relief of brand new understanding. 

jungkook doesn’t look so sure. 

“if this is another illustration of like a stork type situation where i’m going to get compared to a baby again -” 

namjoon laughs, and tugs at jungkook’s hand until he sits down beside him on the chaise lounge. 

“nah, it’s not that,” he says, and then he lies back against the bed and puts his arm up under jungkook’s neck to pillow his head, jungkook turning to look at him as he talks. “let me tell you a bedtime story about just how embarrassingly in love with you i was before i’d even begun to peel back the layers of that … ” 

( later, much later, jungkook will buy a kite for seokjin that he’s wanted for a long time but hadn’t felt he had a real need for, or anyone to use it with. namjoon will be in the studio with yoongi, when he gets a small deluge of pictures and video clips from jungkook, who will stand next to seokjin for hours on top of the windiest hill they can find. he’ll come home to namjoon with his cheeks stung red and his lips chapped, and he’ll smile so wide that namjoon will fret about him hurting his cracked lips. he’ll insist on applying a sleep mask lip balm for jungkook that night, and he’ll have to do it all over again when jungkook kisses him until it’s as much on namjoon’s lips as it is on his. 

that night, seokjin will text namjoon a link with no message attached, and when namjoon opens it, he’ll see a picture of a ring. a pair of rings, in fact. 

and namjoon won’t close that tab for a very, very long time. )

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon could probably count the amount of times he’s been in a club since their debut with one hand. 

jimin and hoseok go out sometimes, they have dancer friends that know good spots where they won’t be recognized or at least not for anything other than their incredible skills and he knows he could go, if he really wanted to, but time off for namjoon has always been about winding down and relaxing. he expels his frustrations in other ways. through his music. and through enthusiastically and creatively fucking himself to thoughts of jungkook. 

he’s a simple boy with simple needs, but tonight isn’t about simplicity. 

it’s the last night of tour and they’re thousands of miles away from home and they’re all so tired that they’re wound back up into being hyper as fuck, so when jungkook sidles up to namjoon during a costume change and asks if he’ll come out with them tonight after the show, namjoon doesn’t take much convincing. jungkook is stripped down to his briefs when he asks, and namjoon doesn’t think this is a coincidence. 

yoongi and seokjin and hoseok say they’ve got other plans, so it’s just the maknaes who get escorted to a terrifyingly underground club by a gaggle of their back up dancers. they leave their phones back at the hotel because phones get checked in at the door here and that’s not happening. a couple of the managers come with them, just in case, and their driver stays in the parking lot so they can leave whenever they want to. it’s actually the most unstressed namjoon has found himself about a public outing in a long, long time and he wonders briefly if he should be concerned about the hyungs staying behind and missing out on this rare freedom. 

“they’re fucking,” taehyung says easily, when namjoon voices his concerns. 

“all of them?” namjoon asks, but he doesn’t know why he bothers. he should have known something was up when yoongi voluntarily agreed to share a room this time. after asking how big the beds were. 

“i am so dumb,” namjoon says mostly to himself, but jimin - who is taking the chance to shoot his shot by hustling namjoon through the entranceway in a very hands-on manner now that jungkook is briefly distracted, chatting to a couple of the dancer hyungs - nuzzles at the back of namjoon’s neck, having heard him. 

“it’s hot, how dumb you are sometimes,” he says, and namjoon doesn’t know what to do with that. it feels very important to him not to react to it, or to move, or to do anything that might in some way incite jimin further. it feels kind of like he’s coiled in the considerable grip of a boa constrictor that he needs above all else not to provoke. 

“don’t show him fear, are you actually stupid?” taehyung hisses in namjoon’s ear, appearing at his side right as they arrive at the bottom of a corridor that ends in a set of huge steel doors. they seem to be vibrating. that definitely bodes well. “he gets off on that.” 

namjoon doesn’t have time to respond, which works out great for him actually, because what the fuck do you even say to something like that? the doors are pushed open by the bouncers and then they’re in what looks like a basement, if a basement was also somehow a warehouse that was lit exclusively by strobe lighting. 

the movement in the room is the first thing that registers for namjoon. it’s a sea of bodies, splices of colour all moving together, totally at odds with one another, but in a way that works somehow overall. it’s a love song of motion and namjoon thinks this even before he hears the music. if the bodies here are a song, the music itself is a feeling. it hits namjoon in the crooks of his elbows first, in his heels and along the lines of his shoulders, the hair on his arms standing to attention. it’s a bassline that his body responds to before his mind catches up to tell him no, and he blushes when one of the dancer hyungs looks back at the movement with a look that very loudly says “well damn.” 

and like magic, ( the jealous kind ) jungkook is there, then. 

his hand is in namjoon’s and he’s pulling him away, dragging him through the crowd after their oldest dancer hyung who is leading the way. it’s a different kind of strange, to find himself in the middle of a crowd of pressing bodies. they’re moving to a beat instead of pushing to get closer to him, but namjoon still grips jungkook’s hand tight like a lifeline, instinct that his body won’t ever abandon. 

they come out of the throng on the far right side of the room, where namjoon couldn’t see the slightly raised platform with tables and stools set up on it from back at the entrance. there’s a section waiting for them and there’s an instant flurry of jackets and sweaters being shed and tossed at chairs, falling to the floor, but no one cares or stops to pick them up and namjoon is amazed at how eager people who dance for a living can still be to dance just for fun. he understands the spirit of it perfectly, but he doesn’t know how they’re physically exhausted. he realizes, after a moment of contemplation, that whatever is in them makes their body respond to the lure of a beat the same way a melody or phrase calls to his brain, his hands. 

finding his footing on the other side of new understanding, he turns to jungkook and finds that half of the group they’d come with is already either out on the floor or at the bar, the rest of them settling in around the tables to survey the fluid motion landscape before them, maybe looking for people to hook up with, maybe just looking for someone to dance with. 

“will you dance with me, hyung?” jungkook asks, and namjoon is already unzipping his jacket before he’s finished speaking. 

they wade out into the middle of the floor, and there in between the slices of light and bracketing pockets of near total darkness, they hold each other close and move.

o o o 

namjoon is both glad he wore a thin tshirt and jealous of how taehyung stripped his shirt right over his head and used it as a lasso to pull jimin closer to him roughly two choruses into the first song. 

he’s downed two full bottles of water that their manager hyung is guarding a stack of at their seats, and when he needs a pee break he spends almost thirty seconds just splashing cold water into his face. 

he thinks he’s about ready to head back out when jungkook appears in the flash of light that is the door back out to the club swinging open. there’s other bodies in there, in front of the sinks and fixing their hair in the mirrors, but nobody pays either of them any attention whatsoever when jungkook pushes namjoon backwards into a cubicle and locks the door behind them. 

jungkook swings him back around to crowd him up against the back of the door with his hands insistent on the balls of namjoon’s shoulders, and when he steps up in between namjoon’s feet to kiss him fast and messy, hard enough that it leaves namjoon stuttering around a breath he didn’t get a chance to take, namjoon just slumps down a little to line them up better and reaches around jungkook to grab his ass. 

they’re getting really, really good at this. 

by now, their bodies communicate almost as easily as they do with their words, with their tactile expressions of affection. if letting jungkook into his space had been easy for namjoon, this is some other, ramped up form of that. this isn’t just easy, it feels like a forgone conclusion every time they reach for one another. 

namjoon knows before he does it that when he sucks at jungkook’s tongue, jungkook’s hips are going to jerk against him. he knows without having to take his hands off jungkook’s ass what it feels like when his jaw clenches because he’s trying so hard to be gentle when he takes namjoon’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites. they’re in a foreign country, in a place namjoon doesn’t know the name of, surrounded by people that don’t speak the same language as them, but the way jungkook feels and smells and sounds is home, to namjoon. he’s sweaty and he’s loud and he clearly doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than shoving namjoon against this rattling metal door and finding out what he tastes like when a bass beat makes his pulse feel like it’s in double time, faster than that when jungkook grinds against him in time with it. 

when jungkook pulls back he keeps their foreheads pressed together and pants in the sliver of space he puts between their mouths, so little that when he licks at his lip he licks at namjoon’s, too. 

“i’m gonna go dance with the vmin hyungs,” he says, with his eyes closed and his hands still all the way up inside namjoon’s shirt. namjoon takes a second to be astonished at how that doesn’t even feel a little bit strange or alien to him, jungkook’s hands on him registering for him as nothing but ‘right.’ it’s gratitude, that threatens to bowl him over, not surprise. he can’t believe he gets to know this feeling, with jungkook. 

“okay,” namjoon says, dragging his hands back up off of jungkook’s ass but letting himself touch up along the line of his spine before he has to stop touching him. “have fun.” 

“just -” jungkook opens his eyes to look at namjoon now, steps back so he can see him properly. “it’s only dancing, okay?” 

and that would seem like an odd thing for him to say, if it wasn’t for how well namjoon knows both jimin and taehyung and exactly what they’re like. if he hadn’t been a victim of it himself many times over by now. he cups jungkook’s face in one hand and kisses him quickly, sweetly. 

“if you want to go get felt up in public by two of your hyungs, that’s all you, babe.” 

mostly, namjoon feels bad for jimin and taehyung. 

getting to touch jungkook but knowing that they’ll never get to have him the way namjoon does? that’s got to suck, honestly. poor things. 

“okay. just … remember that that’s what you said, okay?” 

and then jungkook is gone and namjoon needs a moment to collect himself. he washes his hands again, just to give himself more time before he heads back out into the belly of the beast, and then he straightens out his shirt, fixes his hair after jungkook had tugged it out of place, and goes to watch his boyfriend torture their friends.

o o o 

only, what actually happens is this - 

namjoon is sitting with his hands curled so tight around the edges of the metal stool he’s on that it hurts, and this only makes him grip harder, because the painful wrench in his hands is the only thing even slightly distracting him from the spectacle that’s playing out before him. 

jungkook is bracketed by vmin - taehyung in front of him, jimin behind - just like namjoon had thought, but unlike how this had gone in namjoon’s head, jungkook isn’t just getting touched by them. he’s got one arm stretched back over his shoulder, his hand in jimin’s hair to keep him close while jungkook grinds back on him, and jungkook’s other arm is holding on tight to the curve of taehyung’s waist, while taehyung holds jungkook by the hips to dance on him rather than with him. 

when jimin winks at namjoon before he drags his nose up the length of jungkook’s neck and jungkook’s only response to this is to tip his head back over jimin’s shoulder and open his mouth around a sound that namjoon can see, it’s then that namjoon starts to get stressed. 

taehyung hasn’t put his shirt back on, so namjoon can see the flex of his muscles, can see just how much effort he’s putting into moving against jungkook, and jungkook’s hand is pressing hard into the skin around taehyung’s ribs, the five dimples he’s making dark where his fingers dig in. namjoon knows that if taehyung had a shirt on, jungkook’s hand would be up under it, and he’s not sure if seeing it makes this whole thing better or worse. 

he’s jealous. he doesn’t think jungkook wants them, not like he wants namjoon, but he’s jealous that jungkook is letting them have him like this, when he still hasn’t decided that namjoon is ready to have him how he wants to be had. 

namjoon doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this situation, because he’s never been in anything like it in his life. he’s confused and he’s overwhelmed and he’s turned on, half hard in his jeans and he wants more than anything to go to jungkook, to touch him like taehyung and jimin are, but he won’t. not until jungkook says he can. so he stays where he is, and watches with his hands white knuckled around his seat while jungkook bends taehyung over in front of him and grinds against his ass. namjoon whimpers when jungkook reaches behind himself to grab hold of jimin’s hands and guide both of them up under his own shirt, and he decides then that it’s definitely worse not getting to see what jimin’s hands are doing, having to decipher it from the way jimin is biting at his own lip, the way jungkook’s eyes start to slip shut and then go wide, the hand he has in taehyung’s hair pulling like he didn’t mean it to, though taehyung only leans in to kiss jimin over jungkook’s shoulder like he’s parched and jimin is water. 

when jungkook beckons to him, crooking a finger at namjoon and tilting his head, almost coy, namjoon almost vaults over the table. he’s down off the platform and moving through the crowd before he even realizes he’s stood up, and he doesn’t even notice it when taehyung and jimin melt away into the crowd, grinning at him though he doesn’t see it. he doesn’t look at anyone or anything that isn’t jungkook, and when he walks into jungkook’s waiting arms, he’s horrified for a second to find that his eyes are stinging. 

“you want me bad enough to cry for it now, huh, hyung?” jungkook says, his mouth at namjoon’s ear and his hand on the back of namjoon’s neck tight like a vice. 

“i always want you bad enough that i could cry,” namjoon says back to him, his hands pressed to jungkook’s shoulder blades to keep their chests together, to keep jungkook here, against him. “but i’m definitely going to cry about this, it doesn’t matter what you do now.” 

jungkook, being jungkook, decides to take this as a challenge, and instantly spins around, only to plaster himself back against namjoon again, his back to namjoon’s chest now. he sways back against namjoon, lazy inside the beat that’s making it hard for namjoon to think, but he hears it perfectly when jungkook tilts his face in and up to talk to him. 

“oh,” he breathes, and it guts namjoon. “you were getting hard, watching hyungs touch me. did you like that, yeobo? did you hate that it wasn’t your hands on me?” 

“no, i -” namjoon says, “yes? i don’t -” he can’t think. all he can see is jungkook. all he wants is jungkook. 

“if i said that we could go back to the hotel right now and you could do whatever you wanted with me, what would you ask for, hyung?” jungkook sounds completely composed. he’s sweating and he’s gorgeous and half of this club is trying to fuck him with their eyes, but he’s only looking at namjoon. “what do you need, baby?” 

namjoon might be moving with the beat, or maybe he’s just moving to the hammering of his own heart, the pulse of it in his throat, between his legs. he bends a little to put his arm all the way around jungkook’s waist and jungkook arches back against him, grinning when he turns his head to look at namjoon. namjoon touches the pads of his fingers to jungkook’s shining jaw and leans in to kiss him, feeling like he’s falling into him somehow, but that’s okay, that’s fine, that’s exactly where he wants to be. 

his mouth drags up along jungkook’s cheekbone to get to his ear. 

“i want your cock,” he says without breath, in the space between beats, “i want you in me, jungkook, i wanna feel you come, i want -” 

jungkook’s hand knots in the back of his hair, and namjoon sighs in relief, in something else too, because he could go on all night. he could stand here forever, wrapped around jungkook and reeling off all the ways he wants him, all the ways he’s thought about touching jungkook and how he wants him, how he needs him, now. 

“are you sure?” is all jungkook asks, and his eyes are dark and serious, he’s completely still against namjoon for the first time all night. 

“please,” namjoon begs, and then they’re moving against the crowd, pushing past it, until they can get out of it. and then they’re outside, and then they’re in a car. 

namjoon’s hand is in jungkook’s, and then they’re gone.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon’s head thunks against the back of their hotel room door, and maybe he opens his mouth to complain, maybe he opens his mouth to scream, but it doesn’t matter because jungkook is there. jungkook strips namjoon’s shirt up over his head and tosses it on the floor behind him and then he’s reaching for namjoon’s face with both hands and whatever namjoon was going to say is lost forever because jungkook’s tongue is in namjoon’s mouth and words, namjoon thinks, are fucking overrated. 

“god, i can’t believe how much i want to fuck you,” jungkook pants, and namjoon does a quick one eighty on his previous position on words. then he does an actual one eighty and shoves jungkook up against the door so he can rip his jeans open and peel them down his legs. 

“have you -” namjoon dips his head to press his nose into the divot of jungkook’s collarbones, rubs his cheek against the sweat that’s shining there. “have you done this before, can you -” 

“can i?” jungkook asks, and there’s that unbearably hot cockiness of his again, confidence writ right through him when he steps out of his shoes and kicks his jeans all the way off. he backs namjoon up in the direction of the bed and pushes him down onto it. “no hyung,” he says, pulling his shirt off and then leaning down over the bed, between namjoon’s spread legs, to get at the buttons on his jeans. “welcome to a parallel universe, where there’s things i can’t do.” 

the same way jungkook says no one would believe him if he told them how totally un-clumsy namjoon is behind closed doors, namjoon could say the same of how jungkook gets like this. except he wouldn’t ever tell anyone and he doesn’t give a fuck whether they’d believe him or not. 

“it’s excruciatingly hot, how cocky you are. just so you know,” namjoon says to the ceiling, because he can’t look at jungkook when he’s pulling namjoon’s jeans and boxers down off his hips and pressing his face to namjoon’s stomach, biting gently at the soft skin beneath namjoon’s bellybutton. “i’m a big fan. huge fan of your work, really. i’m honored to be a project you want to take on.” 

he’s babbling, and they both know it. 

as soon as jungkook has dealt with his jeans and has namjoon naked before him, he slides his hands up around the backs of namjoon’s thighs, lifting his legs as he does. he kneels up onto the end of the bed with namjoon’s legs spread wide around his hips. and then he looks down at namjoon. 

“that’s the only reason i’m cocky, hyung,” he says, and namjoon can’t help it, he tries not to, he really does, but he has to look at jungkook’s dick. and then once he’s looking at it, he has to touch it. “it’s - ah, fuck - it’s because it’s you.” jungkook falls forward, catching himself on his hands so he’s propped up over namjoon. namjoon wants to drag him the rest of the way down, but jungkook’s cock feels so good in his hand, feels even better when he lifts his own cock up against it and touches them together. “nobody could ever be better at you than i am, namjoon-ah.” 

namjoon tries to arch an instinctively offended eyebrow at him, but the expression gets ruined when jungkook gets his knees under him, gets namjoon’s hips in both of his hands and starts to fuck up into the hand namjoon has around both of them. namjoon’s eyes roll back up into his head, and jungkook laughs at him, low and delighted. 

“does me dropping honorifics do it for you?” he asks, lifting namjoon’s hips off the bed and then dropping them down again, teasing, “do you want to call me hyung?” 

“no, you -” an insufferable brat is what namjoon means to call him, but then he remembers who he’s talking to. he sits up, his arm going to jungkook’s waist to steady himself enough to lean up and kiss him. “fuck,” he says, “i want to say something biting, but i can’t. i’m too in love with you. this is terrible.” 

jungkook grins against his mouth. 

“is it, yeobo? because nothing about this feels terrible to me.” 

his hand is pushing between namjoon’s ass and the bed cover, now, his fingers fanning out into the space between namjoon’s cheeks. the tip of his ring finger finds namjoon’s hole, but he doesn’t push in, not yet. 

“do we need to shower, hyung? do you think you could make it through me cleaning you up for me?” 

namjoon’s cock jumps between their hips, jerks against jungkook’s cock and it would be embarrassing if it didn’t make both of them moan. 

“no,” namjoon says, shaking his head and absolutely certain, “i would die. but i’m self aware enough to know this about myself, so i’m good to go. i get prepared every time i take a shower. just in case.” 

it’s jungkook’s turn to arch an eyebrow at namjoon and he does it perfectly, because that’s just who he is. 

“i feel like you’re kind of expecting me to be amazed and impressed at your forethought and planning,” jungkook’s finger brushes across namjoon’s hole and just barely dips inside, testing. “but you forget how well i know you, babe. i know exactly how badly you need to finger fuck yourself to the thought of getting to fuck me. if it was only every day, i’d be surprised, honestly.” 

namjoon chokes on whatever kind of sound his body tries to make, because it’s indescribable, being like this with someone who knows him so well and only wants him more for that. jungkook’s cock is so hard in his hand that he’s starting to get wet at the slit, and his balls are already heavy against namjoon’s. 

“there’s lube in the side pocket of my bag,” namjoon says, because he doesn’t have time for anything else. because yes, he absolutely rides his own hand thinking about riding jungkook instead and sometimes multiple times a day, but he’s also totally serious about making that happen, so he has prepared for it as best he possibly can. he’s been ready to make this happen however he could, just as soon as the mood struck jungkook, whenever and wherever it might. he’s got lube in every bag he owns now, he has ascended above shame. shame is for people who can never hope to get fucked by jeon jungkook and namjoon wishes them well, but they are no longer his people. 

“oh, you’ve been eager, hmm hyung?” jungkook asks, getting up to cross the room, but stooping to drop his open mouth down over the head of namjoon’s cock first. it’s a short, shallow slurp and namjoon sees stars. 

namjoon watches jungkook’s ass jiggle as he walks across the carpetted floor and bites his own fist to keep himself quiet. 

“no, in this parallel universe i possess self control around you,” namjoon jokes, but maybe not, because it really would take a parallel reality for that to be possible. “welcome to the upside down, where i’m anything except totally easy for you.” 

jungkook returns, and namjoon feels his expression crumple when his eyes meet jungkook’s again. he’d turned away for like ten seconds and namjoon missed him. he’s not walking out of this alive. 

“oh, chagiya,” jungkook says softly, dropping the bottle of lube onto the sheets to cup namjoon’s jaw in his hands and kiss him. “i’m easy for you, too. i tried to marry you before i could ask you out. i kissed you before i could even tell you that i liked you.” 

namjoon closes his eyes and lifts his face, puts his mouth to jungkook’s and tells him that he loves him. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and jungkook is standing, so namjoon’s hands find his thighs, drift up over the muscles there as his fingers write his love into the lines of jungkook’s body. 

it’s a slow kiss. it feels like waking up, and as usual, when namjoon opens his eyes again, jungkook is there. he’s always where namjoon needs him. 

“i want you,” namjoon says, because that’s true too, and jungkook smiles down at him, one side of his mouth dimpling with it. it’s sweet, and it’s totally at odds with how he nips hard at namjoon’s lip and then pushes him flat against the covers again. 

“so have me,” he says, and namjoon spreads his arms out wide, closes his eyes, and falls.

o o o 

“how the fuck do your fingers feel so much better than mine do?” namjoon doesn’t even know whether his forehead is creased up in pleasure or confusion, at this point. jungkook is between his legs with two fingers smearing lube up into his ass and nothing makes sense, but namjoon has never felt this good. 

“it’s because they’re mine,” jungkook tells him, patient as he explains, and it would be hot as fuck if he was saying that for affect, but he’s actually being serious and that makes it hotter somehow. “it’s because it’s not you doing this to yourself, it’s me.” 

“i love you,” is what namjoon says, but they both hear what he means. 

“are you sure?” jungkook double checks, his thumb pressing against where he’s got namjoon’s hole held open around three of his fingers now, and namjoon’s feet kick against the sheets. “because i could do this all night, hyung.” 

jungkook’s cock is dark between his legs, already shining with lube that he’d let namjoon pour onto him and watch drip down his shaft. namjoon’s chest is still sticky from jungkook climbing up over him with his knees on either side of namjoon’s ribs so he could push his cock between namjoon’s pecs when namjoon held them together, for him. he’d almost come, then, grabbing hard at the base of his cock to stave it off but recovering quickly, slapping at namjoon’s nipples with the head of his cock, getting them stiff and then leaving them wet with his pre-come. despite this, namjoon knows that jungkook would hold off, somehow, if namjoon wanted him to. or if namjoon in any way suggested that he might not be able to. 

“please, i’m ready. please,” namjoon says instead, because he doesn’t have the wherewithal to explore the depths of jungkook’s masochism right now. he’s already forgotten what the word ‘wherewithal’ means. 

“there’s no need to beg, hyung,” jungkook says, sitting up onto his knees and pushing the pillow under namjoon’s hips a little higher. “but if you really want to, i’m not going to stop you.” 

he lifts both of namjoon’s knees into the air and namjoon’s arms band around them to hold them to his own chest. jungkook shuffles a little closer, closer still, and then his hand is on namjoon’s ass cheek, fingers digging in to hold namjoon open for his cock. 

“now?” jungkook asks, and he pushes the shaft of his cock between the cleft of namjoon’s ass cheeks instead of pushing into him. namjoon clenches around nothing. 

“now, ‘guk,” he can’t stay still, he’s restless and he’s impatient and his hips shift, searching, until jungkook holds the head of his cock to namjoon’s hole and looks up into his face. 

it’s a long, slow slide and jungkook watches namjoon the entire time, carefully cataloging every reaction namjoon has to getting fucked full of jungkook’s cock at long, long last. he’s so focused it feels vaguely voyeuristic somehow, and namjoon thinks about jerking off in their bed, waiting for jungkook to come home and catch him, making him sit there and just watch. 

jungkook’s eyes don’t leave namjoon’s face for a second, and he can’t miss the way namjoon’s mouth falls open on a groan, the breaths he takes crumbling to pieces between his teeth, his heart beating so fast he can taste it. jungkook doesn’t move when he’s all the way inside namjoon, but it’s clear from the lock of his jaw and the shallow breaths that he’s taking that that’s taking distinct effort on his part. namjoon takes a deep breath, and after two solid beats he reaches for jungkook’s hand, ready to feel him move when they’re locked together like this.

“go, please. fuck me,” namjoon asks, and jungkook complies instantly, like he’s been waiting, because he has been. they both have. 

once they find their rhythm - it finds them, it seems like - namjoon lets his legs fall back down, his thighs stacked up over jungkook’s, their skin sticking together with sweat. he leans up on his elbows and jungkook leans down and their bodies shift to make it easier for them to reach one another; jungkook’s hands somehow supporting his own weight and gripping namjoon’s waist tightly, the push and drag of his cock never faltering when they meet in the middle in a kiss. 

“is it - are you -” jungkook asks, his nose nudging against namjoon’s, the words a hum against namjoon’s lips, but namjoon is already answering his question before he gets to ask it. 

“feels so good, yeobo. your cock fills me up just right, feels perfect,” namjoon murmurs, and then he has to kiss jungkook again. 

namjoon puts his arms up around jungkook’s neck, and when he falls back down onto the bed, jungkook follows him down. 

“i love this,” jungkook pants, his tongue held between his incisors as he looks down at where his cock is pushing into namjoon, “i wanna do this forever. i want to be inside you always.” he sits up a little, just far enough that he can trail his hand down over the line of namjoon’s abs. “it already made sense to me that literally everybody wants to fuck you, but holy fuck. now that i’m doing it i feel so sorry for everyone who isn’t me. you’re so hot, hyung. fall apart so pretty for me.” 

“just for you. only ever for you,” namjoon says, even though jungkook didn’t ask. “i always was. always will be, ‘guk.” 

namjoon wants to thumb at his own nipples, wants to reach down to get a fist around his own cock, but he doesn’t do any of that. he arches his back instead, because there’s only going to be one first time for them, and they’ve got years to figure out the nuances of how they can best touch each other, touch themselves when they’re together like this, but right now namjoon just wants to think about jungkook. just thinking about jungkook - looking at him, watching his mouth work around the sounds he makes as he fucks namjoon, the clench of his fingers biting bruises into the skin above namjoon’s knees, the beautiful clench of his jaw, the set of his terrible, wonderful mouth - makes namjoon’s cock bob in the air above his stomach, his belly clenching up with want even though he has jungkook. he reaches down in between his own legs, but it’s not to touch himself. he touches jungkook’s cock, where it’s sliding into him, he pushes his thighs further apart so he can feel it better when jungkook grinds in deep and his balls press sweaty and sticky, hot against namjoon’s skin. 

jungkook swears under his breath and then both of his hands are on namjoon’s ass, he’s sitting back on his heels now, too far away for namjoon to kiss, but that’s okay because like this he gets to see all of the jungkook. the roll of jungkook’s hips as he fucks namjoon harder, deeper. the shine of the sweat that drips down off the ends of jungkook’s hair, falling to his shoulders and then running in wet rivulets down his chest. namjoon wants to lick them up. 

“do you wanna come, hyung?” jungkook asks, seeming absentminded about it because he can’t look away from where his cock is moving in and out of namjoon’s body, the squelch of lube getting louder the harder jungkook fucks him. namjoon loves it. he clenches down around jungkook’s cock just to see the betrayed dip of his eyebrows, the petulant little twist of his mouth, the way he drags his cock out of namjoon’s hole torturously slow like it hurts him to do, only to push all the way back into him with one hard thrust, jungkook’s hips smacking up against the insides of namjoon’s thighs loud enough to be a meter for the cacophony their bodies are making together. 

“i wanna put my fingers in your mouth,” namjoon finds himself saying, when he can speak again, which doesn’t really answer jungkook’s question, but oh well. he’s getting fucked by the love of his life, this is neither the time nor the place for coherence, which makes it the perfect place for namjoon, because he has to put his mouth to pillow next to his face and muffle the noise that rips out of him into it when jungkook flicks lightly at the head of his cock and then reaches up to grab two handfuls of namjoon’s chest again, the clench of his fingers greedy and the scratch of his fingernails under namjoon’s nipples making namjoon’s pecs jump. 

“you can put whatever you want wherever you want, once you let me come on your chest sometime, hyung. i wanna see what your pecs look like, dripping with it.” 

and that’s filthy, but it’s not like namjoon objects, so he nods hastily, agrees easily and then he stares at jungkook’s lips, the gorgeous kiss stung flush of them, wet now from how jungkook can’t stop biting at them, licking at them as he fucks namjoon. 

jungkook sits up straight and then plants his hands in the sheets on either side of namjoon’s waist. he tilts his head at namjoon and opens his mouth wide without a word, and god, namjoon wants to take him apart, wants to split his cells and put bits and pieces of himself in there, somehow. 

he lifts his hand into the air and presses the pads of his index and middle fingers down against jungkook’s tongue, instead. when jungkook’s lips close around namjoon’s knuckles, his tongue licking between them, namjoon whimpers. and then jungkook holds his gaze and _sucks_ and namjoon’s hips kick and he knows, he knows they both know now, that neither of them are going to have to touch namjoon’s cock to make him come, like this. 

“so fucking hot, hyung,” jungkook says, licking his own spit from namjoon’s fingers, scraping his teeth against the heel of namjoon’s hand and then sucking at the pulse in his wrist. “you’re gonna come on my cock just like this, and it’s already the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

namjoon tries half-heartedly to cover his face, to hide in the crook of his own elbow, but he knows before he does it that jungkook won’t let him. jungkook puts both of namjoon’s hands on his own thighs, holds them there with his fingers banded hard around namjoon’s wrists. namjoon moves as much as he can, pushes down for it as jungkook fucks up into him, but it’s all jungkook when namjoon comes and the grin on jungkook’s face says he knows it, too. 

jungkook’s thrusts get harder, almost verging on too much, because namjoon can feel it building, his abs are clenched tight and his cock is dribbling pre-come onto his stomach and jungkook is just watching, is just staring down at namjoon’s body like he’s in awe at how it moves for him, like he can’t believe - 

“ - how nicely you take it for me, hyung. so good for me, yeobo. you take your husband’s cock so well, begged for it so pretty. and now you have it. that’s me, inside you,” jungkook says, punctuating his words with a brutal thrust, “that’s my cock that’s making you feel so good. and when you come, that’s going to be for me, too. because this is mine, hyung. mine,” jungkook’s hands are on namjoon’s ass again now, holding him open so jungkook can shove inside and it’s the look on jungkook’s face that sends namjoon over the edge, because when he looks down at where his cock is pressed up into namjoon, the tip nudging at namjoon’s prostate on every pass now, there is nothing in his expression but pride. his eyes gleam and he’s so fucking sure of himself, so proud of the mess he’s making of his hyung, and he has every right to be, because namjoon has touched himself every which way it’s possible to, and he’s never felt like this. he didn’t know his body could feel like this. 

but it does, for jungkook. of course it does, when it’s with him. 

everything whites out around namjoon, time and light and sound all going bright somehow, and his fingernails are digging into his own thighs, he realizes, the sting the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth when jungkook bears down on him and namjoon feels his cock jerk inside him, sees it in every line of jungkook’s body when he starts to come too. he falls forward and namjoon catches him, his hands on the back of jungkook’s head, on the base of his spine. jungkook puts his forehead to namjoon’s chest, his hands pushing between the sheets and namjoon’s back to hold him still, hold him close against him, and it seems like he stops breathing, almost. his body locks up and the sound that pours out of him makes the hair on the back of namjoon’s neck stand up. 

he trembles in namjoon’s arms, afterwards. 

namjoon can’t feel his toes, can’t remember what day of the week it is, but he gathers jungkook to him and holds him through it, cupping jungkook’s skull in one hand and running his fingers up and down the line of his spine with the other. 

when jungkook comes back to himself, namjoon is just starting to think that he could fall asleep like this. 

“that better be the best sex you’ve ever had,” jungkook says, voice faint and his breathing still labored, “because i don’t think i can top that.” 

the giggle bursts out of namjoon, startling them both. 

“you might not be able to top that, but i’m pretty confident i can,” namjoon says, just to make sure that jungkook knows he’s only ever going to take it lying down like this whenever he wants and often. he’s already thinking about getting between jungkook’s legs, feeling him come on his tongue. “hey, how do you feel about getting woken up by early morning blow jobs?” 

jungkook pulls out carefully, gingerly, and namjoon knows before it happens that it’s because he wants to roll over onto his back and tug namjoon down on top of him, so he’s ready and quick to get with the program when that’s exactly what happens. 

“i feel like i didn’t know there was a better way to wake up than we already do, but if it involves your mouth and literally any part of me, i’m down.” 

namjoon’s body is still singing, nerve endings all over his body still sparking with pleasure turned energy turned absolute abandon, now. 

“i’m gonna make my own version of the karma sutra, with you,” he tells jungkook, sliding his hands down along jungkook’s sides, just wanting to feel him. “i’m gonna accomplish feats that were previously thought impossible, for this body. do you have any days off saved up? should we think about taking a sabbatical? because we’ve got a lot to get through, here. a whole lot of ground to make up.” 

“i need like ten minutes of afterglow, and then we’re going again,” jungkook says, his eyes already slipping shut and his hands warm like a blanket, like summer rain on namjoon’s arms, on his shoulders and back. “and that’s only because i’m being considerate. i grew out of having a refractory period the first time you made your tiddies bounce for me.” 

namjoon carefully stores this totally brand new information about jungkook’s apparent boob kink front and center in his mind. on a billboard. in neon lights. 

“hey,” namjoon whispers, getting comfortable on top of jungkook and then tipping his face up so he can touch the line of jungkook’s jaw with his nose, and then his lips. “i love you.” 

“i bet i love you more,” jungkook murmurs back, smiling even though he’s trying not to. 

“nope. no way,” namjoon says, putting his cheek to jungkook’s chest and settling in. “i love you more than anyone has ever loved someone before so that’s not possible, sorry.” 

“but i loved you first, hyung,” jungkook is almost whining, and namjoon starts to laugh again, already reaching to block it when jungkook pokes at his ribs and starts to tickle him. 

“hey, do you think there’s an award for ‘most in love couple’?” jungkook asks when namjoon wins their impromptu tickle fight turned wrestling match, and probably just to throw namjoon off, which is exactly what it does. 

“if there is, we’re gonna have to fight jimin and taehyung for it,” namjoon says, when jungkook has him on his back again, and jungkook is grinning when he leans in to kiss him. 

“please, like they’re competition for us,” jungkook decides, “like anyone is.” 

it’s different, somehow, jungkook being confident in them and cocky about it, and namjoon decides there and then that this is a brand new thing that he loves about jungkook. 

“it’s us against the world,” namjoon declares, but as usual, jungkook is one step ahead of him, but waiting patiently for him to catch up, his hand held out behind him. 

“nah, it’s just _us_ ,” jungkook says, and he’s perfectly and completely correct.

o o o 

the second they get home from the airport they crash, too tired to find things to sleep in so they just paw off one another's clothes and climb into bed together naked. 

the next morning, namjoon wakes jungkook up with his mouth on jungkook’s cock. 

namjoon opens his eyes and takes one look at jungkook, sacked out on his back next to him with his leg thrown up over namjoon’s thighs and one hand cupping namjoon’s right pec even in his sleep, and he can’t bear it. he climbs up onto his knees and then he crawls his way down along jungkook’s body, touching his mouth and the tip of his nose to every inch of skin he can reach, touching this boy in this body that he loves ‘hello’, saying ‘good morning’ a different way, with his mouth. he noses into the crease in jungkook’s thigh and falls in love with the soft swell of jungkook’s cock against his cheek. the second namjoon’s tongue dips out to lick around the head of his cock, jungkook starts to get hard. and that would be gratifying enough, but still asleep, jungkook scrunches his face up and murmurs something that sounds a whole lot like “yeobo.” 

jungkook finally startles fully awake when namjoon sucks wetly at his balls, spit dripping down into the sheets around them, but before he even opens his eyes his hands are at the back of namjoon’s neck and pushing his hair back out of his face, making it so that he can see namjoon’s lips stretched wide around him when he lifts his hips. 

after jungkook comes down his throat with a shout, namjoon takes him by the hand and leads him to the shower, holds him up against the tiled wall while he cleans him up for his tongue, and then makes jungkook come with his mouth in a whole new way. jungkook scrabbles uselessly against the tiles and finally finds purchase with his hand on namjoon’s shoulder, his voice breaking around a breathless, desperate “chagi - ya!” when namjoon pushes his tongue in deep and sucks at his rim. 

it’s only after that that namjoon takes him back to bed and fucks him until jungkook cries. he sits on the edge of the bed first, and lets jungkook stand between his legs and fuck his cock between namjoon’s pecs, his come hitting namjoon up under his chin and dripping down over his knuckles, where he’s holding his tits together for jungkook to fuck. namjoon is stunned into silence by this, shocked to be finding new kinks at his age, but jungkook laughs high and bright like he’s drunk and he looks so deliriously happy that namjoon doesn’t try to suck his dick, even though he wants to, because he’s got other things to achieve before he starts his day today. so namjoon licks his hands clean and jungkook doesn’t even get completely soft this time, stays hard until he comes again sitting in namjoon’s lap, hiccuping around his sobs and still trying to kiss namjoon, his hands hard on namjoon’s shoulders and then soft, when he cups his face. 

“god, you’re good at me,” he moans, finally sitting right back on namjoon’s cock and making a hurt sound, his eyebrows dipping together and his mouth following open on a shocked groan when namjoon reaches for jungkook’s cock with a lube wet hand and so much praise in his mouth that he feels like he’s writing a song, looking up at jungkook and telling him how beautiful he is, how much namjoon wants him now that he has him, how he’s going to make him come every way they can think of, because he’s so gorgeous in pleasure, in namjoon’s hands. 

when jungkook comes yet again he manages to shoot a weak spurt of come up along the line between namjoon’s abs, like he was aiming, like he did it on purpose, somehow. 

“i win,” jungkook says, breathless, with tears still shining on his cheeks and whole body still shaking from a series of orgasms that were barely enough to get it out of namjoon’s system for today. and that’s not technically true, this was namjoon’s victory, but if it’s his then it’s theirs, so jungkook does win, after all. 

he pulls namjoon down over him like a blanket so they can nap, but namjoon makes the mistake of looking at jungkook’s face, flushed from exertion, his cheeks pink and his eyes wide and shining and his mouth still trembling a little bit, and then namjoon has to kiss him so they spend an hour like that; curled up into one another, shaking through too many kinds of joy to count, pressed together at the mouth so they don’t lose sight of one another for even a second. 

they get up and they shower again and when the first thing that happens when they step out of their room that morning is that hoseok pretends to lecture them about their water bill, and yoongi asks if he needs to sit them down for ‘the talk’ because he’s “not ready to become a step-father,” jungkook throws his head back and laughs so happily, so brightly, that namjoon expects to look at him and see the sunlight that’s falling on him from the window become a rainbow on the other side of him. his body is a prism, the translucence of his joy a solid thing that translates color that was here the whole time, but written in a different way, legible now that jungkook can be the bridge for it, now that jungkook has changed its form, changed it just by letting it into him and then back out again. nothing could make it through jungkook and remain the same. no one could see the reality of him, the whole stunning truth of him, and not be different for it, namjoon thinks. better, like he is. 

when they water their plant children together, it seems to namjoon like they lift their leaves towards jungkook, like they reach out to try and get closer, rising up tall to hear his voice and he feels a kinship with them that’s new, though they have always been entirely his. they were jungkook’s too, and had been from the first moment namjoon had stumbled out of his room in the middle of the night parched and in need of water, and found jungkook lying under what was just two plants on a windowsill back then. he’d been singing to them, soft in the moonlight, and maybe it took namjoon so long to realize that he was in love with jungkook because it’s always, always been there - he just didn’t know that that was what it was called. 

this morning, jimin and taehyung tumble in to play with yeontan in the suntrap next to namjoon’s plant nook, and when yoongi makes them all breakfast, seokjin appears just in time to lift him up in a hug that takes him off his feet, and to loudly and solemnly swear that he would marry yoongi, if polygamy was legal, but alas, taehyung had put a ring on it last night. hoseok loudly starts to explain that that’s not that kind of ring, and this quickly devolves into a near scuffle that ends in a not-at-all-really argument about the ethics of yoongi signing for sex toys for hoseok that are going to be used by other people to cuck what jimin calls his “unofficial life partner.” seokjin chokes on his soup when he realizes that jimin means him, and when jungkook slaps him hard on the back, taehyung tries to use this as an excuse to get jungkook to take his shirt off. 

it’s chaos, and it’s exactly the way it’s always been, but now it’s jungkook and namjoon watching it unfold together, their seats so close together that their hands brush between their plates but neither of them makes a move to change that. 

if jungkook is the bridge, then namjoon is the verse, and mornings like this - moments like this - are the chorus. 

of all the songs they’ve made together, this one is namjoon’s favourite.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

namjoon knows jungkook is going to be out late, but he still tries to wait up for him. 

they haven’t had any nights off in a few weeks and namjoon had told jungkook not to even think about coming home before it was starting to get bright out, because it’s been forever since he’s gotten to see his ‘97 line friends, they must have tons to catch up on. 

namjoon works a bit and then fucks around on youtube some and then he climbs into bed with his ipad, ‘one day’ tucked under his arm and koya watching him from the pillow that jungkook usually pushes off the bed in the middle of the night, preferring to sleep with his face pressed against the sheets or his head pillowed on namjoon’s arm, sometimes his chest. 

if his very life depended on it, namjoon couldn’t tell you what movie he watches half of before falls asleep, paying more attention to the group chat so he can save the new meme stash that hoseok is flaunting but still finding himself waning even as he’s laughing at seokjin’s attempts to recreate choice reaction pics with his own beautiful face. 

when namjoon wakes up, it’s to jungkook crawling into bed with him. 

he smells like winter wind, like some kind of fruity alcohol, and like himself. namjoon opens his arms before he opens his eyes. 

“i’m home, yeobo,” jungkook whispers, his hand cold when he brushes namjoon’s hair back out of his face, but his lips warm when he presses them to namjoon’s forehead. 

“me too, chagiya,” namjoon murmurs, and then sleep washes back over him, a warm wave that takes him back out to sea.

[ ](https://ibb.co/JnWtqWS)


End file.
